


Achieving The Impossible

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Abduction, F/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-24
Updated: 2011-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert had dreams of Ariadne before he ever knew she existed. Once he saw her, he couldn't let go of her.</p><p>For the prompt: <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/inception_kink/15916.html?thread=32763180#t32763180">Robert is obsessed with Ariadne.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Divine Mandate

Love is as much of an object as an obsession, everybody wants it everybody seeks it, but few ever achieve it, those who do, will cherish it, be lost in it, and among all, will never... never forget it.  
Curtis Judalet

 

Robert Fischer had initially thought he was working too hard in the wake of his father's death when he woke from the first dream. He had controlling interest in Fischer-Morrow now and he was starting to dismantle parts of his father's empire, reshaping it into his own vision. Browning had objections to the new direction, but he couldn't fault his logic. Robert had spent a lot of time before the first shareholder's meeting mapping out his plan to restructure the company. A number of subsidiaries would be the first to go, including a pipeline that would take millions to develop before he saw any profit. He knew his father had only purchased it to spite Proclus Global.

Robert had carefully laid out his long term goals for Fischer-Morrow in such a way that even Browning couldn't object. He planned to streamline the company, narrow its focus in the short term as subsidiaries were sold off. In the next phase of his plan, he would expand the core energy company and enter into more green and cleaner sources of energy. It was the "in" thing, and he would make a name for himself outside of his father's circles.

It was hard to really remember his dreams at first. He was too busy, too occupied and too involved. He didn't notice the strain of it at first, not until Browning told him he was starting to look like death warmed over, as if he was pulling one too many all-nighters.

He dreamed of a girl. As a heterosexual male, he wasn't terribly surprised by that.

He _was_ surprised when he dreamed of her every night for two weeks. It was the same girl every time, looking the same way, in roughly the same clothing. The avid fascination was so very unlike himself that it stuck out in his mind the moment he realized it.

The girl was in her early twenties with brown hair pulled severely back from her face into a French twist. Her hair was pin straight and held in place with product, making him think that it was naturally curly. Her eyes were a golden brown, rather like amber or caramel. Her skin was pale, even more so because of the gray suit she wore, or the white parka that went over it. The pale clothing only accentuated the porcelain skin, making her lips seem so much more red in comparison. Robert was much taller than she was, but she carried an air of authority about herself. She didn't speak to him, but her expressive eyes told him what she was thinking. She found him wanting in some way, and this idea haunted him, even defined him.

He had to prove himself to her somehow.

Robert couldn't have said why the brunette was so important. He didn't know anyone like her or anyone that looked like her. She was a dream, not someone real, and even thinking about her made him feel stupid. He was a multimillionaire in charge of a multinational corporation, had been involved with beautiful and powerful people. Yet for all of that, a figment of his imagination was bringing him to his knees. It was only a matter of time before the person closest to him noticed the change.

"You look tired, Robert," Browning told him one day. "Why don't you take a vacation?"

"There's still too much to do here," Robert protested. He couldn't tell Browning about the dreams, which made him feel a little sad. He used to be able to tell his godfather everything.

Browning sighed. "Robert, you've put yourself under so much pressure to get everything done. It won't hurt your timetable to take a few days off to recharge." He came closer and clasped Robert's shoulder in affection. "We only lost your father a few months ago. I don't want to lose you, too."

Robert sighed as well. He trusted Uncle Peter, always had. Recently, that trust was tinged with deep suspicion. Did his godfather really care for him? Or had it all been tied to the company? He felt vaguely disloyal for thinking it, but he couldn't shake the idea that perhaps Browning couldn't be trusted.

He couldn't find fault with the logic, however, and sighed again. "I suppose a few days couldn't hurt," he allowed.

Browning's eyes carried concern and hopefulness. Strange. Did he hope that Robert would crack under the pressure and leave the company to him?

Robert pushed the thought away and gave Browning a wan smile. "I'll have my Blackberry, of course," he told his godfather.

Uncle Peter laughed and patted Robert's shoulder affectionately. "Yes, but I'd still hope that something catches your eye while you go sight seeing. The idea is to relax, recharge your batteries, find more of that creative energy you've got."

Robert picked Paris because it was an easy place to get to. He had been there plenty of times in the past, so he could always ignore the sights and get down to thinking about business.

At least, that had been the plan. It all changed as he walked through le Quartier Latin. He couldn't remember the patisserie he liked, and wandered around aimlessly looking for it when he saw her. The girl from his dreams was sitting at an outdoor café, facing away from him as she chatted animatedly with friends. Something about exams and structures and columns. Art major?

To see her in the flesh was startling. Robert had thought she was a figment of his imagination, but she was real. She existed, and this had to mean something. Uncle Peter had urged him to go sight seeing, but had been general about his wish. He also didn't know about Robert's dreams. He'd told no one about her. This wasn't a set up, wasn't a trap.

It occurred to Robert that perhaps he had dreamed of her because she had already been in his mind. He knew about dream share and the possibility of extraction. He had prepared against that threat, even over his father's objections. There was always talk about residue left behind, images or thoughts that were a trace of an extractor's having been in a victim's mind. But a young girl attending college didn't seem like a likely extractor. Most of the tales revolving around the dream share world told of ruthless men and women that didn't care who they hurt as long as they got their payout. This girl seemed nothing like that. She had an easy smile and was discussing art with her friends in an outdoor café, and didn't seem to even notice that he was there. If she had been an extractor, she would have been much more alert to his presence.

Robert thought of approaching her, but knew he could never do that. She was some kind of college student, curls in her hair as he suspected, with a voice as expressive as her eyes. To tell her he had been dreaming of her sounded like a lame pick up line. She deserved better than that, demanded better than that. Even if he hadn't dreamed of her for weeks he would have felt good in her presence. Something about her drew him in, made him feel significant, made him feel at ease.

This was no dream, but he didn't know what to think. How could he explain dreaming of a girl he had never met before, only to find her while he was lost in Paris? It had to mean something, and he wasn't about to take this for granted.

He sat nearby, facing her back. He didn't know why, but he didn't want her to see him yet. He wanted to be sure he wouldn't scare her off, sure, but there was an additional reticence he couldn't explain. Sipping coffee and nibbling on biscuits, he eavesdropped shamelessly.

Final exams had just been completed, and Ariadne was the girl's name. She had to defend her thesis soon, but she felt confident in her defense. A Professor Miles had called her one of his best and brightest students, with a fluid creativity. Ariadne laughed as she relayed the compliment, a little uneasy with it. She was modest, Robert realized, as if she wasn't used to high praise. She was doing some kind of work placement on the side, a part time basis until her degree was complete. She loved the pure creation of it, but wasn't sure if she would continue long term. She was a little afraid of burning out, of losing her edge.

Robert's hands nearly shook as he listened to her talk with her friends. The more she said, the more he felt they had in common. Maybe he had found his other half, the one his mother had always told him was out there in the world waiting for him. They could be soul mates. This might be fate. He had to know more.

He knew of a private investigator that was discreet and worked internationally. Martin Jeffries had quietly followed his father's orders in years past, looking into things to gather blackmail material. This would be much less destructive than most of the things the man had done for Maurice Fischer.

Quietly, Robert contacted the private investigator. He knew the girl's name, location, occupation, a professor and a likely major. Jeffries would find the rest, and Robert could decide what to do with it later.

It was hard to wait for the information. Robert didn't see her again even though he continued to dream of her. He returned to Fischer-Morrow burning with purpose, but it wasn't the vacation that did it. Robert let Uncle Peter have his illusion, and he refused to feel bad about it. His godfather had been helpful, just not in the way that he had intended.

Jeffries finally returned with preliminary information about Ariadne, her family connections (or lack thereof), her schooling and some casual observations. Robert paid the fee and requested more detailed information, as well as access to the surveillance photos and video that the private investigator no doubt collected. For a heftier fee that he willingly paid, Robert got access to _everything._

Ariadne lived alone in a poorly secured apartment building that had been built before World War II. She had a flair for bohemian styles of clothing, was often reading or sketching, talked on the phone or worked at her computer. She wasn't dating anyone at the moment, had friends of both sexes and was a brilliant student with outstanding marks. She was expected to be recruited into a prestigious architecture firm as soon as she defended her thesis to obtain her Ph.D. Everything he learned just made him admire her more.

Robert thought he understood his purpose now, and it was to become the sort of man that Ariadne would be proud of. Differentiating himself from Maurice was no longer enough. Ariadne was a harder task master, as she was complete. The real Ariadne might not be the same as the dream Ariadne, but everything he'd seen so far told him that she was his ideal. He wanted to make her part of his life. He had to prove to her that he was more worthy of her than anyone else. He had to make her see how she could be proud of him; he would cherish, even love her.

His dreams of her had been changing somewhere along the way. It was slight at first, just details of her appearance. Probably because he had seen her in real life and knew more about her. Now she was in more than just gray or white. She wore bright colors, usually a red jacket layered over a white shirt that was layered over a darker inner shirt. She had floral scarves at her throat and wore her hair long and loose. In some dreams, her expression was almost desperate as she undid bonds around him that he hadn't even realized were there. There was pain in his chest and the rush of air all around him, as if he was falling. The pain always woke him up; it felt as if his heart was being pulled out his chest or as if the inside of his chest was set on fire.

And there was another woman there with them sometimes, though he didn't have as clear an image of her. Just dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin and a purple shirt. For some reason, the explosive pain in his chest seemed to be associated with her. Fear and terror and _pain_ were all this woman brought to him. Ariadne was pointing at gun at her in those dreams, and sometimes she pulled the trigger.

The other woman's face would have been beautiful if it wasn't ravaged by hate and despair. The first time he saw her, Robert had thought she was supposed to be his mother. She didn't look like her, and all of his memories of his mother were tinged with love and affection. His mother had dark hair and eyes, and this woman had dark hair and blue eyes. His own eyes were very blue as well, and he knew that unkind things had been said to his mother about that. He had resembled his mother growing up; perhaps that was one reason why his father couldn't stand the sight of him after her death. Perhaps that was why Maurice was so disappointed.

Robert didn't know who the woman was, but she was menacing. She was a danger to them both. He knew Ariadne fought her, defended him against her. She had saved him when the other woman with the dark hair wanted to tear him apart.

 _He'll come for you,_ she told him. _But he doesn't care about you. He doesn't love you._ He had railed against her. It wasn't true. His father loved him, Robert knew that, though the way he showed it had left a lot to be desired. His protests against the woman were weak, and she kept laughing at him. _I know the truth._ Robert hadn't understood what she was saying to him. Maybe she wasn't even talking to him.

Robert woke in a cold sweat at that point. Thank God she wasn't real.

Unless she was, just as Ariadne had been.

Ariadne fought her in his dreams. She fought this dangerous woman to save him, to protect him and inspire him to be a better man. The dark woman was more like his father, with his rules and inability to display positive emotions. She was fear and anger and rage, she was love turned to hate, the inverse of everything Ariadne was. Ariadne was hope for the future, Robert's symbol of redemption. If the dark woman was out there, Robert would have to avoid her. And protect Ariadne from her.

This had to be a sign.

Robert tried to track his dreams in a journal even as he watched surveillance videos of Ariadne. He was drawn to her, and thoughts of her took up more and more of his time. He was breaking up his father's company by day, watching over Ariadne and dreaming of her by night.

The dark woman was showing up more and more, however. As weeks went on, he saw her in white, gun in hand. She shot him in the chest, a smirk on her face. Robert wasn't sure what it meant, but it couldn't be good. The dark woman meant him harm, her eyes flashing with anger whenever she looked at him. _You know how to find me,_ she said, jaws tight with rage. _You know what you have to do._

When Robert woke from that dream, it was more than a cold sweat that followed him to waking. He was terrified, but not just for himself. Ariadne was in danger. The dark woman was a threat to them. She had to be real, just as Ariadne had been. Robert didn't know how he knew this, why he was having these dreams, but it didn't matter. Ariadne had been real. If this woman was real, the threat she posed could not be ignored.

His duty was clear. He had to protect Ariadne from the dark woman. This would be how he proved himself to her.

Jeffries was between jobs at the moment and only too willing to take Ariadne from her home for the promise of a six figure payout. He knew how to cover his tracks, to remove all the cameras he had placed in her apartment or her classes. She was almost done with school now; all that was left was her thesis defense. Robert thought it would be an opportune time for the dark woman to attack Ariadne. Robert understood how important this defense would be to her, so he had to allow her to do it. That also gave Jeffries time to remove all of the signs that he had been part of Ariadne's life, and it gave time for Robert to do some preparation of his own.

She passed her defense, of course. Robert never doubted that she would. With Jeffries following her closely, the dark woman couldn't make a move. Ariadne had plans to go to a party and meet with friends, however. It would be an opportune time for the dark woman to strike.

So Robert struck first.

Jeffries kidnapped her from her apartment as she was getting ready for the party. He had taken a few items from her apartment in the past, a scarf or blouse here and there. It gave Robert an indication as to her sizes and tastes, but he also knew her through his dreams. The items gave him a connection to her even before she arrived.

Jeffries managed to get her out of France and into one of Robert's homes. He was staying there now as he reworked his father's empire. The house wasn't as massive or empty as the one he grew up in; Browning assumed he moved out in grief, and Robert let his godfather think it. The security was good and the location was remote. He could protect Ariadne best at this location.

"Did anyone follow you?" Robert asked Jeffries as Ariadne was laid down on the bed, still heavily sedated.

"Of course not," the investigator scoffed. "No traces, no clues, no ties to you." He didn't even glance at Ariadne, and had never asked why Robert wanted her. His eyes were empty and flat, soulless holes that reminded Robert of the dark woman. "Now it's time to discuss my payment."

"Of course," Robert replied evenly, leading Jeffries out of the suite he had set up for Ariadne. "Follow me."

Once they were far enough away from the locked suite and walked across the tarp that protected the carpets from the debris from the recent modifications to the house, Robert eased the gun from the shoulder holster he had hidden beneath his suit jacket. He shot Jeffries twice in the chest, then once in the head for good measure. Robert felt nothing as he did it; he had to protect Ariadne at all costs. This meant eliminating any and all ties that the dark woman could follow back to him.

Robert buried him in a hole six feet deep at the far edge of his property after burning all of the ID on him. He had four different aliases on him and a fair amount of cash. Robert pocketed the cash; it was just under a hundred dollars, not very much by his standards. Still, he didn't feel that it should go to waste.

He felt nothing as he tamped the dirt down and covered it with brush, making the area look undisturbed. Jeffries had fluid loyalties depending on the pay. He couldn't be allowed to lead the dark woman to Ariadne.

Robert's mandate was clear. He would be worthy of Ariadne by protecting her, by becoming the man his father knew he could be. There were no coincidences out of all of this. They were all linked together.

He knew what he had to do, and he was ready to do it.

***  
***


	2. Exploring Limits

Ariadne awoke with a splitting headache in an unfamiliar room. She didn't think she had partied that hard, but she didn't even remember the party. She was supposed to meet classmates to celebrate completing her defense. She was also in the middle of designing a fairly complex level for Arthur, who had continued in dream share after Cobb's retirement. Eames and Yusuf had returned to Mombasa, but did plan to visit her and take her to dinner as congratulations.

Just thinking of them made her check her jeans pocket. The bishop was there, and it tipped over just so. Reality.

Still, she couldn't remember how she got to this room. She couldn't remember the party. She was dressed in casual clothes, as if she'd never changed for the party at all. Her eyes felt sticky and her fingers came away smeared with eye shadow and mascara when she rubbed at them. So she had finished her makeup, but hadn't changed yet.

What the hell was going on?

She was confused, and tended to get angry when confused. She didn't like the feeling that she was missing something important, that she should know what was going on. But this was no test she could talk her way through nor a dream she could reshape. This was reality, and it was starting to piss her off.

Ariadne rolled to a sitting position and looked around. It wasn't a hotel room, though it was fairly nondescript. A guest room, then. The bed was comfortable, with high thread count linens in solid blue. The comforter was a thick down quilt, though she had been laid down over it. There was a door to a closet, a desk, two doors and an empty expanse of wall in between. No windows, no paintings, just unrelieved white walls and cream trim. No personality whatsoever, no sense of what was going on.

The room tilted and swayed around her when she tried to stand. She pitched forward into the wall, hands outstretched to keep her from falling. The room spun crazily, and her empty stomach rolled around in protest.

This was not what a hangover felt like. Couple with the cottony feeling in her mouth, Ariadne was starting to suspect she had been drugged.

Was it the subject? It made no sense, though. She hadn't completed the level yet. Arthur couldn't do the extraction without it, so there was no crime yet. There was nothing to tie her to the mark. She should have been safe. She should have been partying in Paris.

Arthur would know she was missing, but it would take him a while. As good a point man as he was, there wouldn't be a cause for alarm yet. There wasn't a time frame when the job had to be completed, and Arthur knew she had to defend her thesis. He would guess that she needed a slight break from design, but eventually even he would worry, and he would start to track her down. Especially if this was because of the job, because he had promised it would be safe. He had meant it, and took his word seriously. He gave it so rarely in this business, after all.

But who else would have kidnapped her?

She hadn't seen Eames or Yusuf in at least a month. Other than a thank you for her help and an apology for being an ass, she hadn't heard from Cobb since the Fischer job. Not really a part of the dream share scene, Ariadne couldn't figure out who else would know enough to kidnap her.

The dizziness faded slightly, though Ariadne didn't quite trust herself away from the wall just yet. She staggered toward one of the doors closest to her. It opened into a bathroom, which was done in high end fixtures. The room was done in neutral tones, with no sense of personality either. It was simply a guest bathroom.

Ariadne froze when her eyes came across the counter next to the sink. There was a little plastic basket like the one she had at her apartment, with the few cosmetics she used regularly in it. The bottles were all brand new, still with the plastic wrapping on them. There was the face wash she preferred, as well as the same soap she used for her hands in the dish. Her eyes swung to the tub. It looked deep and luxurious, with the curtain and liner drawn back. She could see a brand new shampoo and body wash in the corner of the tub, as well as a scrubber brush and pouf.

If she wasn't clinging to the wall for balance, she would have fallen in her shock.

The other door was locked. It probably led outside this bedroom. She laboriously made her way around the room. The desk was cherry, with antiqued drawer pulls. The drawers were full of sketch pads, blank notebooks with lined and unlined pages, pens like she generally used to begin her sketches and Copic markers. The middle drawer had the gel and roller ball pens she preferred to use when writing.

With a sense of dread, Ariadne went to the closet. She yanked open the doors, falling to the floor. She looked up at the clothes inside in dismay. There was a structured gray suit that looked eerily similar to the one she wore on the hotel level of the Fischer job. There was a white jumpsuit that also looked similar to the one she wore on the snow fortress level, only without all the padding and insulation. There were several suits in dark, neutral colors, clothes that looked like the sort of thing she wore on a regular basis and a handful of scarves hanging up.

The worst part of it all was that she _knew_ some of that clothing was hers. One sweater had been knitted by her grandmother and one of her scarves had been hand painted by her best friend in high school. She thought the dry cleaner must have lost them and felt suddenly guilty at how furious she had gotten with the young couple who worked there.

Whoever kidnapped her had been in her apartment. Invaded her home. And knew about the Fischer job.

If she hadn't already collapsed, she would have fallen again. Her mind was freezing in shock. It was stuttering, not able to really comprehend what she was seeing.

"Oh my God," she moaned, bringing her hand to her mouth. "Oh my God."

Whatever she thought the consequences of her actions would be, this wasn't it. She had expected to be chased if she or Arthur couldn't keep her identity a secret. She was taking karate classes to protect herself, and Arthur planned to teach her how to shoot if she insisted on going into the field again.

Just thinking about him brought an ache. She knew nothing romantic would come of it; Arthur had made it clear that he didn't mix business with pleasure. He had only gone so far as to say Cobb's name and Ariadne understood. Dominic and Mallorie Cobb had worked together first, then married. They had a family and continued to play around in dream share. Arthur was deathly afraid of falling into the same problem that they had faced. Arthur was too much of a professional to want his work compromised in any fashion. He liked her, maybe even as more than a friend, but he would never act on it. He had been gentle about it when Ariadne first made an attempt to ask him out, thinking the kiss on the hotel level had been flirting. If she left the business, they could possibly start something, but the thrill of pure creation was too much temptation to give up right now.

Of course, being locked away in a room like this was giving her a different perspective.

Tears tracked down her cheeks. Whatever could have been didn't matter anymore. She was kidnapped and locked away, and this was all very, very real. She didn't know why she was here or what would happen to her now, but it couldn't be good. Someone was planning on keeping her long term. They might be trying to make her comfortable, but it was still kidnapping and holding her against her will. It was still forcibly erasing her choices in life.

They weren't going to kill her right away. They were _keeping_ her.

Ariadne wasn't sure which option was worse.

***

She had fallen asleep on top of the coverlet despite the stress. It was impossible to tell how much time had passed; her watch said it was 2 am, but she didn't know when she fell asleep or how long it had been since she had been kidnapped. Her watch could very well have been on Paris time, but she didn't know where she was. She might not have left Paris, but she could be anywhere at all in the world. There was nothing in the room to indicate her location.

It took a moment for several things to sink in. One, she was covered with a quilt which she remembered falling asleep on top of. It was new and very much resembled the one that she had in her apartment. Two, she smelled food. Three, the lights in the room had been dimmed.

On the desk was a Tiffany lamp, which was the only illumination in the room now. She distinctly remembered that the overhead light had been on before. There was a covered dish on a tray on the desk as well, with silverware and bottled water beside the dish.

Whoever had kidnapped her knew when she fell asleep and came in quietly. It reinforced that she was meant to be kept alive, but this didn't explain why or who had done it. It also told her that she was being watched.

She couldn’t see cameras, but that didn't mean much anymore. Technology had miniaturized many things, though she wouldn't know what to look for.

Ariadne slowly pushed the quilt off of her and rubbed at her face. Cautiously, she approached the desk. Nothing leapt out at her, of course, but this was entirely too creepy. Someone was watching her. Someone had been watching her for a long time, it seemed, and had been in her apartment. Some of her clothes were here. Makeup and toiletries like hers were here. There were even pens and notebooks that she preferred. Someone had been watching her, long enough to learn her preferences, and she had never known about it. _Arthur_ had never known about it, and he would be livid once he found out. He prided himself on being the best, on knowing more about others than they knew about him, of being the perfect professional in the business and being able to keep himself and his team safe.

She dismissed the fleeting thought that Arthur had done this. Mostly because he would have had no reason to do so. He was against considering a relationship with her while they worked together. And neither would he do something like this to protect her. He was straightforward in his intentions with her. He was precise to a fault. If he wanted a relationship with her, he would stop working with her. If she was in danger, he would tell her and help teach her to defend herself. He believed in informed choices, in having a sense of honor even though they were criminals. Maybe _because_ they were criminals. It was important for him that there was a method and a process, that there was structure amidst the chaos.

No, this wasn't Arthur's doing. He would beat whoever had done this.

She and Yusuf didn't have a romantic relationship, and he had always respected her work and her autonomy. He wouldn't arrange for this, either. Eames didn't have romantic interest in her despite his teasing remarks, and he was another one that respected her autonomy. He had always taken her at her word that she could handle herself. He encouraged her to finish her degree and give herself options, to be _sure_ that dream share was what she wanted. He wasn't as strictly regimented as Arthur on a job, but he also had a system that he followed. He had a code of honor and a sense of loyalty. He would tell her if someone was after her, and he would never lock her away like this.

Ariadne ate the food in front of her woodenly, not really tasting it. It was well made, but her mind kept whirring. She didn't know anyone else actively involved in dream sharing. Cobb had fallen off the map to be a father to his children and Saito had Proclus Global to run. She was too new to know anyone else, and Arthur was protecting her. Eames was protecting her. Yusuf wasn't, but he didn't go into the field.

It also occurred to her that it might have nothing to do with dream share. She was new to the field and unknown; Arthur was definitely trying to keep her identity off the radar. In prepping for her defense, she hadn't been watching the news. She had no idea if there were any recent disappearances indicating a psycho might have taken her. Or maybe that creepy guy at the club she and her friends went to might have been involved. It was impossible to be sure.

This was someone new, then. Someone unknown.

That more than anything else terrified her.

***

Ariadne had tried to avoid the bathroom because the idea of someone watching her there had squicked her, but the eventual use of the amenities was unavoidable. This was one more violation that was making her angry. She had to use the toilet and she was starting to feel grungy and dirty. It had been probably two days in the same clothes, if not more.

She took a long time in the shower, listening for sounds. This was a perfect opportunity for her captor to come in and remove the dirty dishes and leave more food.

Despite every effort, she heard nothing. And when she exited the shower, she wrapped herself up in towels and froze.

The dishes were gone. Her dirty clothes were gone. The gray suit from the Fischer job was laid out on the bed for her to wear.

Ariadne looked around the room in a panic, but all the doors were closed and presumably locked. No sign of cameras, but there _had_ to be some in the room. How else could her captor know where she was?

"Whoever you are," she cried, looking around. She had no idea where to fix her eyes. "This is fucking insane. You're creeping me out. Stop it!"

It would have been even creepier to have some kind of intercom system activate for her captor to reply to her. Though it was a small favor, no one replied to Ariadne.

Of course, someone was still watching. She would have to remove the towel to dress in the gray suit. It wasn't her style, but even if it had been, Ariadne wasn't interested in giving her captor a free show. Stalking to the closet, she yanked the door open angrily and chose clothes that were more comfortable. She chose a dark cami, a lighter shirt to layer on top, the sweater her grandmother knitted and the painted scarf. There were fabric bins with underthings in her correct size, which was unsettling. She chose a matching set, her anger keeping her from appreciating the fine silk and expensive lace that it was made out of. She gathered the clothes in her arms and retreated to the bathroom to get dressed. She didn't know if there were cameras in the bathroom, but she had to hope her captor wasn't a complete pervert. Kicking the door shut, Ariadne leaned against it for a moment, willing herself to calm down.

She layered her clothes with care and left her hair in damp tangles. Opening the door to the bedroom, there was no sign her captor had come in again. She had almost expected to see someone standing there to demand why she had rejected the suit.

Either way, she was still stuck. Well, she _assumed_ she was still stuck. She hadn't tried the door since the first time.

Ariadne grasped the door handle, expecting it to still be locked up tight.

It wasn't.

She couldn't believe her eyes when the door swung open. She cautiously stepped out into the hallway, aware that she had no weapons. Even so, she wasn't about to stay locked up if she could help it. She had to get out.

Ariadne went back and got the lamp base to use as a club. That was better than nothing. She left the suite and found herself wandering through a maze of halls. She was wondered how big this house was to have a finished basement with twisted hallways like this. Finally finding the stairs, she climbed them and opened the door not knowing what to expect, but hoping to find a way out. The door leading out from the kitchen was locked, and the glass was apparently reinforced; the lamp base actually broke when she tried to smash the windows open. Furious and not ready to give up yet, she wandered around, then stopped short in the living room.

A man was there, facing the fireplace with his back to her. He was wearing a blue dress shirt, suspenders and dress slacks. He was tall and thin, his shirtsleeves rolled up. He had closely cropped hair, and was contemplating the flames. This had to be her captor. Now she wished she hadn't left the broken lamp base in the kitchen. Though she had no weapons and would be a complete idiot to rush him, she really wanted to. He took a drink from a glass in his hand, though Ariadne didn't think he'd likely be drunk enough for her white belt karate skills to take down.

"I know how confusing this must be for you," he said in carefully measured tones, his back still to her. Ariadne's heart caught in her throat at the words. He knew she was there and was that confident she couldn't hurt him. Fuck, he had to be dangerous.

He turned around slowly, a soft smile on his face, his blue eyes intent on her shocked face. "I've dreamt of you for a long time, Ariadne," he continued quietly. "Please come in, and I'll explain everything to you."

Ariadne found herself backing away, shaking her head in disbelief. This couldn't be happening. This made no sense at all. This couldn't be happening.

He was looking at her in alarm, blue eyes wide with concern. "Please, Ariadne. I'm not going to hurt you. I'll explain everything, I promise."

"I need to get out of here," she stammered, backing away. She turned and ran abruptly, not sure where she was going. He didn't have that handicap, of course. He caught up with her easily, his long legs giving him further advantage. Ignoring her screaming and flailing, he caught her in his arms and held her tight against his chest, his arms like iron bands.

"Ariadne," he began, voice as earnest and sincere as his gaze had been. "I'm Robert Fischer. I'm trying to save your life."

***  
***


	3. Outlining The Plan

Robert didn't let go of Ariadne even after she stilled in shock. "I'm trying to protect you. I'm trying to save your life."

"What are you talking about?" she asked warily.

"It sounds crazy, but I need to protect you from someone." Ariadne didn't move, and Robert hoped she was listening. "I've seen her in my dreams, just as I saw you in my dreams. You're real, so that means it's likely she is, too. I'm going to protect you from her, I promise you this."

She remained silent, and Robert gradually loosened his hold.

Ariadne bolted.

Robert tackled her to the floor, covering her body with his. She was so petite but solid in his grasp. She was his dream made real, flesh and blood and bone, and he could feel her terror. "You weren't safe, Ariadne," he told her as she struggled. "I need to keep you safe. I'll explain everything," he insisted.

Ariadne stilled, breath drawn in shock. "What?"

Robert hoped this meant that his words were sinking in, that she wouldn't try to run again. He couldn't take that chance, however. He had known it was a risk to abduct her, but he had to take it. She meant too much for him not to try. He stroked her hair softly. "I know this must sound insane, but the threat is very real. I wouldn't have dreamt of you otherwise. I'll explain everything," he repeated, conviction in his voice. She was trembling beneath him. "I am trying to protect you. I _have to_ keep you safe."

"I need to go home," she whispered, voice breaking.

"She's out there, the dark woman. I don't know her name," Robert told her. She wasn't fighting him, but he couldn't trust her not to run. She didn't know about the dark woman, didn't understand the risk involved in staying out in the open. "She's dangerous, and she's insane. I can't let her hurt you."

"You're hurting me right now," Ariadne choked out.

Robert knew it for the lie it was. "I'm going to keep you safe at all costs. I know you don't understand what's going on. I'm sorry I had to do this, that I had to scare you like this. I didn't mean for this to happen. It sounds insane, but I dreamed of you before I ever saw you. Once I saw you and I knew that you were real, I knew it had to mean something. Then I started having dreams of this woman with dark hair and blue eyes. There's nothing but pain in those dreams of her, and she's frightening. I can't even explain why. In some of the dreams, you shoot the dark woman. I know that it makes no sense, but I know she's after you. She's going to destroy you. If I could have explained it to you without sounding crazy, I would have. Please believe me, Ariadne," Robert insisted.

"I couldn't risk having you hurt because you didn't believe me. She's a serious threat, and I couldn't leave you where you were. It wasn't safe. She could have gotten to you at any time, and I couldn't let that happen. I just need time until I can track her down. I need to find her so I can stop her. I promise you, Ariadne, I'm going to stop her. I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe from her. I will give anything, do anything, to protect you."

She quietly began to cry, and Robert held her. She had to be overwhelmed by what she'd been through in the last hours, not to mention a stranger giving such impassioned speeches. Things like this had never been his style, but this was necessary. She had to know he was sincere and he would live up to his promise. He would be so good for her, would do anything to protect her. She meant everything to him now, his whole purpose for existing.

He had disappointed his father growing up, not learning the lesson his father had meant for him to learn. But he understood now, and the dreams must have been his second chance. His father wanted him to be his own man, not just a shadow. Ariadne was his chance to do it right, to save a live and give his own meaning.

Robert got up and pulled Ariadne into his arms, cradling her. She stiffened at first, and it hurt. Did she think this was some sordid sexual thing? He simply wanted to comfort her, to keep her safe. He wasn't seeking anything more, but he could understand her doubts. She didn't know him and couldn't trust him yet. He was tempted to pick her up and carry her back to her room, but thought it might be demeaning for her. He led her back to the stairs. If she bolted again, he would simply keep holding on and repeating his reassurances. It was all he had.

Ariadne was docile as he led her to the suite he had prepared for her. She flinched a little when he sat her down in the sitting room and she could clearly see the deadbolt on the bedroom door.

"I'm going to keep you safe, Ariadne. No one else knows you're here, so the dark woman won't find you. You'll see," Robert said earnestly, all but kneeling in front of her. "I’ve planned for this very carefully. Your things are being taken care of. Your apartment will be watched in case she tries to find you there. No one knows about this place. Your safety is everything to me and I’m trying to be the man you need me to be."

"Please let me go," Ariadne whispered. He could see that she had no real hope he'd do it, but she had to ask.

Robert got to his feet and backed away slowly. "I'm going to be away on business for a few days. Everything you need is in this suite, I promise. Three, maybe four days. I need to see if she surfaces, too. I won't let her hurt you. She's dangerous, Ariadne, you have no idea."

"She's not real. You're doing this for no reason!" she told him, rising to her feet. "You need to let me out of here!"

"She's as real as you are. I wouldn't dream of her otherwise."

Robert left the suite and locked her in. He had things to do.

***

"You look much calmer, Robert," Browning said with approval. "You've really come into your own these past few months." He gave his godson a rueful smile. "I admit, you had me worried for a while there after Maurice died. I was afraid grief had changed you."

"It did change me, Uncle Peter," Robert told Browning gravely. "I realized I was hanging onto things for no reason. I wasn't growing. I wasn't someone that my father could be proud of."

Browning looked aghast. "Oh, Robert, no—"

"Yes, Uncle Peter." He gave his godfather a sad smile. "But it's all right. I saw my mistake in time, so I can do something about it and be the man I should be."

"He wasn't disappointed, Robert," Browning told him, looking at him sadly. They were sitting in Robert's office after lunch, and he was going over a presentation he planned to make to the Board. "You're his son. He was always proud of your accomplishments."

"Perhaps," Robert allowed, even if he clearly didn't agree. "But they were a shadow of his, a pale reflection of who he used to be. He couldn't be proud of me as a son, as a grown man." Robert held up a hand to forestall Browning's protests. "It's all right, Uncle Peter. I made peace with it a long time ago. I know where I went wrong, so I know what I need to do to fix it."

Browning shook his head but didn't say anything else. "Your father loved you, Robert. You have to believe that."

"Of course I believe that," Robert replied evenly. "He was my father. He had to love me. He just wasn't proud of me. He didn't _like_ me." He shrugged in the face of Browning's denials. "I understand now. He was broken after my mother died. She took everything bright and beautiful with her, leaving him with nothing but guilt and grief and pain. I couldn't see the man you did, because he died with my mother." Robert's tone was matter of fact, which only seemed to make Browning that much more disconcerted. "He wanted the best for me, I understand that. He wanted me to be my own man, but I didn't understand that before." Robert reached across the desk and patted Browning's hand fondly. "I accept it, Uncle Peter. It's all right. I can only move forward from here and improve. I'll eventually be the man he can be proud of, the son he wanted me to be."

"I wish I knew what to say," Browning began.

"You don't have to say anything."

"I feel like I should! That's not Maurice..."

"I got a different side of him," Robert said shortly, leaning back and away from Browning. The older man took the hint and stopped talking. "You don't have to defend him. You don't have to explain. It is what it is. It's taken me a long time to realize that, but I do. I'm all right with it, Uncle Peter. All I can do is learn from it and move on."

"So this new direction the company is taking..."

"It will put Fischer-Morrow back on the map, reinvent us and make our mark on the world."

Browning sighed. "I don't think we've ever talked like this before, when Maurice was alive."

"I couldn't before," Robert said quietly. "I was still in his shadow then. I wasn't my own man. I wasn't much more than a lost child, trying to figure out what to do with my life."

"And now you know?"

"Now I know," Robert confirmed.

"So now what?"

Robert smiled, wide and genuine. "The company will thrive, Uncle Peter. I've got a few projects in mind for us, as well as a personal side project."

Browning seemed a little more at ease with those words. "You know you and this company are my entire life," Browning told him. "I worry if you're not doing well."

Robert smiled fondly at his godfather, ignoring the thrill of unease that suddenly ran down his spine at those words. "I know. You've always been there for me. I'm sorry if I didn't always seem appreciative."

"Oh, Robert. You're like family. You don't have to thank me."

Those words made him feel guilty for his prior mistrust. "Yes, I do." He looked at Browning intently. "I appreciate everything you've done to help me. If anything, I know how important it is to have that support. You've been more like a father to me, and I don't want to lose that. I don't want to make the same mistakes I did with my father."

"I've always been proud of you, Robert," Browning said, emotion thick in his voice. "As if you were my own son."

Robert rose to give Browning a hug. It was returned with sincere affection, and Robert felt a sense of peace settle over him. This was what he should have done before his father's death.

Browning was proud of him, but Robert had always known that was the easy part. The real challenge was to make Ariadne proud of him, to earn her love and respect. When this threat was taken care of, he could concentrate on that.

***

Robert was alone late in his office when he booted up a laptop his godfather didn't know he owned. His father's private investigator had originally owned this particular laptop, and his hidden cameras were now in one of the basement guest suites of his house. He watched Ariadne pace the length of the bedroom and sitting room. Sometimes sketched in one of the sketchbooks or wrote in a notebook. She didn't have much else to do, to be honest. She was bored, eating the simple soups or reheatable meals he had put in the mini fridge in the sitting room. She also had a small microwave and a second mini fridge that held drinks.

Robert traced the curve of her cheek on the laptop screen. She was so beautiful, so petite and perfect. He _had_ to protect her, had to prove that he'd be a perfect lover and partner for her. He'd been incomplete, missing his other half. He needed to be whole, and he knew that Ariadne would complete him.

 _Another day, and he'd go back to the country house. It was too long a drive during the week, but he could spend the weekend there. He would be attentive to her needs, to begin to show how much he loved her. When she trusted in that, she would understand how necessary she was for his survival. She was perfection and he wasn't. In time, he could prove his devotion to her._

 _"Soon, Ariadne," he murmured, touching the screen tenderly._

 _In the meantime, he had work to do._

 __

***

 _Robert wasn't stupid. Ariadne didn't truly understand the scope of the danger she was in. She believed the dark woman wasn't real, wasn't a threat. Robert knew it wasn't true, so he had to be doubly cautious. The suite had a deadbolt on the outside of the door, as well as a lock on the inside of the door that required a key. He waited until Ariadne was occupied in the bedroom to enter the suite silently and lock the door behind him. He had more food for the mini fridges, a small CD player and CD's that were on the list of artists she liked. He had some paperback novels as well. She would like these, he reasoned. And he would do her laundry personally. It couldn't be that difficult._

 _Ariadne was in the doorway of the bedroom, watching him warily. "How long do you plan to keep me here?" she asked, voice level._

 _"Until I find the dark lady and can neutralize her. I don't even care if she's alive when I finished, as long as she can't hurt you."_

 _"What are you talking about?" Ariadne demanded angrily. "What dark woman?"_

 _"She had dark hair, blue eyes. French accent, so that's where I'm focusing my search. Average height, so she's taller than you. Very capable of wielding a gun."_

 _Ariadne blanched. Dear God, he remembered _limbo._ What kind of damage could that have done? "Mal. You're talking about Mallorie Cobb."_

"Oh? What makes you so certain?" Robert asked, curious about her reaction to the description.

"She's _dead,"_ Ariadne insisted. "That's a dead woman."

"You're awfully sure that's who it is," Robert said slowly, taking in her sincerity.

"Mal Cobb is _dead._ She killed herself three years ago."

Robert filed the name away for later, not sure why she was so certain of the name despite his limited description of the dark woman. He approached Ariadne slowly. "You're my top concern, Ariadne. I have to keep you safe. You're everything. Saving you gives my life meaning."

Ariadne was shaking her head. "No. I'm some stranger..."

Robert approached slowly. Reaching for her, he simply stroked her cheek reverently. "I'm not even half of a whole without you. I'm lost. I need you safe, Ariadne."

She looked frightened, and Robert supposed it had to be overwhelming for her. It had felt overwhelming for him at first, too. Only time would help her accept it.

"It's all right," Robert told her gently. He lowered himself to eye level, kneeling in front of her. "I know this is a hard transition for you. I wish I could have done this different, but I panicked. I can't let the dark woman find you. She'll kill you, I know it. She'll break you, change you somehow. I don't know how I know this, but I do."

"She's dead, Robert," Ariadne said firmly. "She's dead and you've kidnapped me for no reason. You need to let me go. I won't tell anyone what's happened here."

He cupped her face in his hands, making her freeze in place. "I would never hurt you, Ariadne. Not by action, and most importantly, not by inaction." His touch was light and his gaze was tender. "I care about you too much to let anything happen to you. I need you to be safe. I don't know what I'd do if something ever happened to you."

"You don't know me, Robert. I'm nothing to you."

"I've dreamed of you for months," he said, a soft smile on his face. "I didn't understand at first. I thought I was going crazy. I kept seeing you in my dreams, and I fell a little in love with you. Those dreams of you saved me, made me feel that with you everything was going to be okay."

"Robert..."

"But then I _saw_ you that day in Paris. You were real. You weren't just a figment of my imagination. You weren't there because I was grieving for my father. You were real and innocent, and you were better than I could have imagined. I couldn't have imagined you, complete with you perfections and imperfections. You're _real,_ everything that I'd hoped you'd be." There were tears in her eyes, and she shook her head. Robert withdrew his hands and sat back on his haunches. "Don't you understand, Ariadne? This is meant to be. Whatever I've done wrong, however wanting I've been, this is my second chance to get it right. I've led such a selfish life until now, never considering anyone else. I was so consumed with my own guilt, my own pride, my own needs. I need to do this right."

"You don't love me, Robert. This isn't love," Ariadne insisted, pulling herself away from him.

He didn't follow. Denial was always the first response to the unknown or poorly understood, and he didn't want to scare her. He knew he had moved too fast, tried to tell her too much. "I know what love is. It's beautiful and gives you meaning. It's knowing someone so completely that you're two halves of a whole, that you can try to provide everything your other half needs. But I’m moving too fast now. I keep forgetting that you didn't dream of me too and this is all strange to you." Robert smiled in the face of her shock. "I know I have so much to learn, but I'm _trying._ I want to be good, to get it right. I won't waste this chance to get it right."

She had her hands over her mouth as if choking back a scream. "Please, Robert. Please don't do this," she pleaded.

"I'll protect you. You'll never have to worry, because I'll make sure that you're safe."

Robert leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. "I'll earn your trust. And once you're safe, we can talk about this again."

Ariadne was frozen in place and made no attempt to stop him from locking her into the suite.

***  
***


	4. Disconnect

Ariadne woke, disoriented. She was in a dark room, heavy blankets pulled up to her chin and someone was stroking her hair. For a bewildering moment she thought it might be Arthur, despite their conversation about relationships between coworkers. She opened her eyes and saw Robert sitting beside her instead, watching her sleep.

It all came rushing back, the horror of realizing Robert Fischer had her, realizing he didn't know about the inception and that so much more had been implanted in his mind than they had intended. He had broken apart his father's company to reinvent it, but now he had also absorbed Mal's influence and her psychotic insistence about the nature of love. Robert had seen her in the hospital level and somehow remembered the threat she had posed to everyone. He also seemed to remember Mal from limbo; he couldn't possibly remember the details in the proper context. All of it was twisted in his mind now, and he was fixated on Ariadne. He had decided to make her the center of his universe now, his holy grail.

Horror and guilt didn't even begin to describe what she felt. She couldn’t even be furious with Robert for all of this. Her sins had come back to her in the form of an obsession she'd help set in place by allowing an unstable man into the mind of the man sitting with her now.

It hadn't felt real in Paris. She'd helped to invade his mind and change him, but it had never felt real. It was abstract, something she hadn't reconciled into true harm. Oh, she knew it was illegal, that they had helped to steal a part of his inheritance so Saito's company could thrive unimpeded. She knew she was helping Arthur to do illegal things, to be a high tech thief. That made her no better, even if she had been physically and mentally divorced from the actual crime. She was still a thief, an accomplice and an accessory. Somehow, she had been able to ignore her role in it all, minimizing the severity of their crimes because the team had all been friendly with her. They had been gentleman thieves, perhaps, but still thieves nonetheless.

Ariadne closed her eyes. They'd done Robert a horrible disservice in the name of money. Or in her case, curiosity and the need to create. How could she ever make it up to him? How could he ever be whole again?

"Did you sleep well?" Robert asked softly, still stroking her hair. She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. "I'm glad. I know how boring it is in here, especially given how active you were before this."

"What do you mean?" Ariadne asked warily.

"Well, with school and projects and friends... It's quiet here. Lonely. I know that, and for that, I'm sorry."

"I need to go home, Robert."

"I can't take that chance," Robert said, voice soft. "I looked into the woman you mentioned, Mal Cobb."

"She killed herself."

"There are reports that it was murder," he said quietly. "Her husband killed her, then fled the country. Then some reports that it was suicide." He didn't stop stroking her hair in the same gentle rhythm. "How did you know she was dead?"

"I've met her husband. He told me."

Robert nodded. "The dark woman looks like her," he admitted quietly. "The eyes are different. Mal Cobb isn't quite the same. The look in her eyes was soft, like she'd be a lovely woman to talk to. The dark woman is frightening. She's charming, but that's only a front. She'll kill you and smile all the while, then dance on your grave."

That was precisely the difference between the real Mal and the shade; remembering the shade made Ariadne shiver.

Still stroking her hair, Robert smiled at her. "I know it's difficult to understand. I still don't, exactly. I've never understood religion or psychology. There are fields of study that look into this. Parapsychology. I've started reading a little into the theory, and some of it just sounds stupid. But the mind is an amazing thing, you know. We only use twenty percent of our brains in any given moment. What if clairvoyance is real?" He gave her a shy smile. "There are also dreams. Most people think dreams don't mean anything, or they're useless. I know better. With the proper training, people can go into dreams, obtain information, mold it..."

Ariadne didn't know what to say about that. "Robert..."

His smile widened. "I like how that sounds."

"How what sounds?"

"My name. Like I matter." He gave her a sad yet hopeful expression. "Like someday I might matter to you."

Ariadne wanted to cry. What had they done to him? It was worse than she had feared. "I shouldn't be that important to you. I'm just some stranger."

"I've dreamed of you," he told her quietly. His fingers followed the slope of her skull and trailed down her neck. "You're not like any stranger. You mean more than that. You're special. You're important to me."

Ariadne wished that she could have heard those words from anyone else but him. It chilled her to hear it. He was dependent on her for approval now, and she was trapped here. She couldn't think of a way to get herself out of this mess, and her mind ran in useless circles.

Robert traced her neck, watching her struggle with what to say. Slowly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against her temple in a chaste kiss. "Is there something you want? Something I can bring you?"

She thought of her friends, the party she'd missed. There was the job she'd never complete for Arthur. She had no family left, rather like Robert in a way.

Oh hell. She didn't _want_ to sympathize with him, not for anything.

"I want to go home," she told him, voice even and chilly. "I can forgive this if I get home."

"It's not safe there," he countered. She hated that he was right. "I was able to watch you for a long time and have you brought here. Your apartment has no security to speak of." His finger slipped along her neck in a slow, sensuous movement, making her shiver. "I can deal with you hating me or being disappointed in me if you're alive. If you're alive, then I have hope that I'll earn your approval in time, that I'll prove myself to you. I can't do that if the dark woman kills you."

"There is no dark woman. Mal Cobb is dead," Ariadne said, getting angry. "You're keeping me for no reason!"

Robert's hand was along her throat, the webbing between the thumb and forefinger pressed up against the underside of her jaw. "I will protect you, Ariadne. Even from yourself, if I have to."

She was too frightened to move or reply. He had seemed so vulnerable during the Fischer job, not like someone potentially dangerous. Right now, she could see the tough man that he had been before his grief had gotten to him. This was the man that could run his father's empire, the one that had butted heads fiercely with his father in public. This was the man with a militarized mind that even Arthur had never discovered.

Robert leaned over and kissed her temple. "I care about you, Ariadne. You're not a stranger. I had visions of you for a reason. You're my destiny, the other half of me." His lips were against her hair, his tone reverent and chilling at once. "I love you, Ariadne. That will never end."

"You don't know me. You can't love someone you don't know," Ariadne whispered, feeling her heart freeze in her chest.

"I know you," Robert said softly, moving to rub her shoulder in a soothing manner. "I know just about everything about you, Ariadne. I've loved you for a long time. I'll make you proud of me, I promise. I'll be worthy of you. I'll do whatever it takes."

"Except let me go."

"Except that," Robert agreed.

He took his hand from her shoulder. At first she was afraid he would put his hand on her throat again. He said he needed her alive, but Ariadne couldn't stop the fear that he would choke her to death anyway.

Robert threaded his fingers through her hair, cradling the back of her head. "I love you, Ariadne," he whispered into her hair. "Without you, I'm nothing. I'm less than nothing. I have no purpose, no worth."

"The company."

"Fuck it," he said harshly, shaking his head. He leaned forward and pressed face into the warm curve of her neck. "I'm making it mine, in _my_ vision, but I don't care enough about it. Not compared to you."

His lips were soft against her skin, and she was careful not to move. He pressed chaste kisses along her neck, soft and reverent. "I need you, Ariadne," he said when she remained silent.

"You love what you think you know about me," Ariadne protested.

He smiled against her neck. "I've had you under surveillance, you know. I've recreated some of your things, taken the things I couldn't. I learned what matters to you, what you cherish. I want to make you happy, Ariadne."

 _I don't understand,_ she wanted to say. But guilt stopped up her words. She _did_ understand, after all. The inception had worked only too well, not just with breaking up his father's company, but with _limbo._ She and Mal were part of it now, and that was twisted up with the idea to be his own man.

She understood now what they had done to Robert, but she could never explain it to him.

***

"I've started to set things up so that I can work from home," Robert announced soon after. Ariadne had no idea what day it was in comparison, or how long she had been missing. She _thought_ it might be a few weeks, but it was hard to be sure.

Ariadne had started to sketch in the copious free time she had. She drew mazes and building designs, sketched friends she had in Paris, the team in the planning stages of the Fischer job. She drew vistas she would never see, and it pained her to realize that. Robert asked to see her work, and he treated it like a precious gift when she grudgingly let him look. She supposed she should ask questions about why he was going to work from home, but it was obvious. He wanted to be closer to her. He wanted to be with her and keep her safe. He couldn't do that at work.

Robert wasn't perturbed by her silence at all. "Maybe by next week I'll have the telecommuting set up. Then we can get a schedule settled."

"You'll let me out?" she asked, almost afraid to hope.

"Within reason, yes," he agreed with a smile. "I didn't want _this,_ after all, but it was the only way to keep you safe while I was away."

"So then what's your plan?" she asked, hoping there would be a flaw in it somewhere that she could exploit. Her hopes died as he described the house, how large it was and secure the grounds were behind its high walls and gates. There were security panels at every exit of the house, and even if she could get past them, there was an exit code at the main gates that he didn't plan to give her. The grounds themselves were large, and she would more likely get lost trying to find another exit, giving him time to find her.

He really had thought of everything. She was trapped.

He took in the slump in her shoulders, and his gaze sharpened. "You're disappointed in me."

"I guess I hoped that I'd be able to go outside today," she said quickly, covering for the hope to escape. He wouldn't have allowed that, and she wasn't stupid enough to believe that he was so besotted with her that he would simply let her walk away. Not after all of his protests that he hadn't found the dark woman yet, and she was still a danger.

Robert grinned. "We can do that. I'd love to show you the house. This was our summer place, but we only came here when I was really little."

Ariadne watched him lift a chain from around his neck and unlock the door leading out of the suite. "You're really going to let me out?"

"On the grounds? That will be safe enough. I've been keeping track. The dark woman hasn't shown up here, so she might not know about it. It's public record that I own it, though. So I can't believe that it'll be secret forever. But at least while we're here and it's safe, you can go outside."

"Then why didn't you before?" she asked, eyebrow arched when he opened the door.

Robert looked almost sheepish. "I panicked. I couldn't find the dark woman, and I was afraid she was here already. If you couldn't get out, then she couldn't get in."

Sound logic, though it worried her that she thought so. Was she buying into this or thinking like a madman, too?

It was hard to continue that line of thought when he led her to the solarium. She could see the yard beyond the back of the house, the trees swaying in the wind. The room was bright with natural light, and it was a sunny day outside. "Can we go out through here?"

"Yeah." He seemed almost shy and proud. "I want to show you around. I've put in a lot of things that weren't here when I was a kid."

Ariadne remembered that his mother had died when he was eleven. She wasn't supposed to know that, but it was easy to tell by the way he talked. There were happier memories when his mother was alive and the entire family had vacationed at this house in the summer. It was large and secluded, a place where his father really couldn't do as much work as he used to during the week. Robert had run and played a lot, rather like any other child. He hadn't noticed exactly when his mother started getting sick, when the play and winsome smiles stopped happening. The summer he was ten, they hadn't come back to the house, and then his mother died in the spring. The family hadn't been back until he opened it back up to prepare for Ariadne's arrival.

She didn't want to feel sorry for him. She didn't want to care about what happened to him. She wanted to focus on gates through the walls, on ways out of the house and grounds.

Wind whipping through her hair, she turned and saw Robert watching her closely. He had a hopeful look on his face, blue eyes shining as they took in the sight of her beneath the sun. In that instant, she knew that she really did mean everything to him. He truly would move heaven and earth for her. And if Mallorie Cobb the shade existed in real life, he absolutely would do whatever he had to do to keep her safe.

It was a humbling thought, but something she could use. Ariadne felt a little strange, as if maybe there was a mercenary part of herself she never used to be willing to acknowledge. This was a different time and place, however, and she would have to do whatever it took to keep herself safe and to get back home.

Ariadne forced herself to smile at Robert. "It's beautiful here."

She could almost see him perk up at the compliment, and he took her around the grounds. He showed her all his favorite spots in the gardens, the places he used to play as a boy. Ariadne hated herself a little for playing him this way, but she reached out and grasped his hand on their return trip back into the house for lunch.

She had to lay the groundwork, and it had to be believable. He would never trust her otherwise, and it was vital that he trust her. Otherwise, he would never make a mistake that would allow her to leave.

***

Ariadne helped Robert move her clothes and bathroom things to a guest room on the first floor facing the garden his mother had started years ago. This room had more personality; apparently the basement had been for the staff, so a warren of rooms had been built into it. No one really came to visit, and no one cared for the house or grounds full time anymore. The grounds were still cared for by a very select crew that had worked for his family for years. Robert had been caring for the house himself, as best as he could. He watched her expression closely, hoping for a word of encouragement of some kind.

"It's a great home," she said, not quite able to put on a fawning expression. "I love how it's built. And you must have been so happy here."

It was enough to get him to start talking about what it was like growing up in the house, the summers he had spent there with his parents. Robert brightened when he spoke about those happier times, the memories of his mother and how much warmer his father had been back then. "I know I'm not who he wanted me to be, but I'm working on that," he said at one point. His expression was so sincere that Ariadne wanted to cry. Their team had implanted that idea, had given him the idea that his father _did_ love him, and hadn't thought of him as a failure as a son. Ariadne didn't even know if that was true or not; all Eames had said was that it was worse than they all had thought. But the inception took, so Robert must have _wanted_ it to work. He _wanted_ to have his father's approval and love.

"I'm sure it's not like that," Ariadne had said, disconcerted.

"Why do you say that?" he asked, looking at her in confusion.

"He was your father. He had to be proud of you, right?"

Robert's features smoothed out. "You see? That's such a selfless thing to say. I know you're not happy about being here like this, but you're still trying to make me feel better." He smiled at her, heartbreakingly happy. "I can only hope to be like that someday."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, brows knit.

"I hated him, Ariadne. I've always hated him, and I always thought it was my fault that things couldn't work out. I know it was, and I know I was a disappointment." He gave her a halfhearted shrug, lips curling into a sad smile. "I wasn't the man he thought I could be. I was nothing but a poor copy of him, no achievements of my own. But I'm going to change that. I'm going to be a good man, one worthy of pride." He tentatively reached out and touched her hand. "I'll keep you safe. You're my second chance. I can save you, and I can prove that I can do something right. I can be worthy of your notice. I know I can be, if I just work hard enough."

"Robert," Ariadne began in a pained voice.

"It's all right. I know it's hard to hear, but that's the truth." His hand tightened on hers fractionally. "I'm not deluding myself anymore, that's all."

It took everything she had not to turn away from his gaze or yank herself away from his touch, however well-meaning it was. She instead turned into him slightly, tilting her head in that way Eames always used to do when he was listening to ideas and working through them. It was his active listening pose, and it seemed to work here.

Robert smiled at her, his touch on her hand firm and secure. "We're going to be okay, Ariadne," he said confidently. "I know we are."

She allowed him to kiss her forehead, and she let her eyes fall shut. This was how she would survive. This would be how she got him to trust her. This would be how she could find a way to escape and go home.

Now if she could just stop feeling guilty about her own role in this, she would be fine.

***  
***


	5. Blurring Boundaries

Robert walked into his office with a lighter step. Ariadne had started listening to him, hearing the words he said and all that he couldn't say. She wasn't frightened of him anymore, wasn't frightened of his role in her life. He had known it would simply take time, that she had to get acclimated to all of it. He had asked a lot from her, after all. He was patient. She was softening her stance, likely to try to get him to loosen his controls. Robert understood that, and was willing to let it play out. She might have thought that it was a game of some kind, but in getting him to trust her, she was getting to know the real him. Ariadne didn't have reason to trust him, but she was learning. This was a test of patience, and one he would pass.

He hadn't expected her to become so genuinely interested in his past so soon, or in the stories of his childhood. Appreciation for the house and grounds was almost expected. His father had spared no expense in having it built soon after he was born, and his mother had always enjoyed gardening and horticulture. It would have surprised Robert more if Ariadne _hadn't_ appreciated it, given her own background in architecture. She didn't know the difference between flowers in the garden or how carefully his mother had designed the beds once upon a time, but she was impressed with the design and the little details that made up the whole.

Ariadne didn't shy away from his touch, either. That left him gratified. He liked touching her, feeling her skin beneath his fingertips. She was soft, deceptively delicate looking. He understood that she was tough, that she didn't want to be seen as helpless. He had put her into an awful position with this move, but he had to keep her safe. This was meant to be. He wouldn't dream of her otherwise, and he wasn't the kind of New Age fruitcake that believed in every damn thing that came across his path.

"Robert!" Browning said as the connection was made on his side of the conference call. "You definitely look calmer and less stressed."

Robert couldn't help but laugh. "Sleeping in on a regular basis helps with that. Maybe I should have done this sooner, I don't know. It's a little strange not to walk into the corporate office every day, but this is nice, too."

"The board was a little concerned, I'll admit," Browning began, shrugging. "I think it has more to do with all the changes that have happened recently. I know you mentioned looking into a lot of other directions for the company. Honestly, I think it scares them."

He didn't care what the stupid Board of Directors thought, but Robert knew better than to say that aloud. "I needed to step back a little. I can't run myself ragged for them anymore," Robert said, knowing that Browning would accept that explanation. He had always cared for him more like a father would than Maurice had.

Just as he thought Browning would, he nodded and smiled. "I'm glad you're taking care of yourself and have your priorities right."

"I've had a lot of things on my mind for a while, Uncle Peter," Robert murmured. "But it's all set now. Everything's fallen into place."

"Good to hear," Browning said with a smile. It had to be Robert's imagination that there was tension in that smile. There was no reason for Browning to doubt him, no reason for Browning to mistrust what he was saying. It had to be that niggling doubt that Robert couldn't shake, that last thought that perhaps Browning was keeping something from him.

He wasn't himself. Robert couldn't shake that thought, no matter what. Browning was hiding something, and Robert was different in some way. Something had happened to the both of them after Maurice died, and Robert couldn't explain what it was.

It didn't seem to affect their working relationship, and they managed to go over business prospects easily enough. If anything, that was the part that had always been steady. It was just everything else that he doubted now. At one point he nearly asked Browning what he was hiding, but stopped himself just in time. The last thing he needed was to trigger his godfather's excessive concern and send him running to the house to check up on him.

After Robert logged off of work for the day, he went in search of Ariadne. Just thinking about her made the tension bleed out of him. He found her in the sunroom, facing the windows with her back to the door. She was sketching at the desk he had helped her move into the room; it had sparked a screaming match when he had done it. She had resented needing his help, and had railed at him for kidnapping her and limiting her options. She had never been so dependent on someone in this way in all of her adult life, and she loathed how helpless it made her feel. Robert had simply stood there, nodding and not saying a word. She was right, of course. He had known what he was doing would upset her, but it was for the greater good. Ariadne would forgive him in time once she was safe.

For a while, he simply stood there, watching her. He drank in the sight of her, the careless curls and the slope of her shoulders beneath her blouse. She dressed in light layers and warm colors, which was such a change from the darker tones he was used to. His entire life seemed to be nothing but darkness and stormy gray without her.

He didn't want her thinking he was some kind of creepy stalker, though he supposed he had been that for some time. He had meant well, and had only the best of intentions. It had to matter. It had to make a difference to her.

"I feel you watching me," she said, looking up and turning her head. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Robert said, his voice sounding a little rough around the edges. That she cared about him and how he felt never ceased to amaze him. He came closer to where she was sitting at the table. She was sketching the garden as it would have been if it wasn't currently raining. Without his having to ask, she handed him the book to look at, which made his heart skip a beat. Her sketches were so personal, such an intimate part of her. She was giving him a measure of trust, he was sure of it.

"You look upset about something," she said, sounding almost uncertain. He was staring at her sketch of the garden, the high wall and cameras beyond it. God only knew what she thought about that, if it would be dismissed as a security measure or as something he wanted to spy on her with. They spent a lot of time together now that he was telecommuting, and Robert needed her to understand why this was so necessary.

"You understand why you're here, don't you?" he asked softly, running his fingers over the pencil sketch. Some of the lead blurred in spots, and he abruptly pulled his hand away. Now he knew why her fingernails were sometimes blackened, and felt ashamed at the thoughts he had before; he had once accused her of trying to dig under the walls to find an escape route.

Ariadne blinked at him and took her sketchbook back. It almost hurt Robert physically for her to do that. It had been a sign of her trust in him to look at her private sketches, and now she was rescinding that privilege. "You say it's to save my life," she said slowly. "You keep telling me that. Why? Has something changed?"

"No," he said, voice soft. He reached out to touch her hand, and felt a burst of satisfaction push through him when she didn't jerk back.

"Robert?" she asked when he didn't answer right away.

"I want you to be happy, Ariadne," he said softly, a sad smile on his lips. "I want you to be safe, first and foremost, but I do want you to be happy too. You're the most important thing in my life." He held her hand, gently rubbing his fingers across the back of hers. "Sometimes I still look at you and I can't believe you're really here. Sometimes I feel like I'm still dreaming of you, and I feel like I'm still trying to wake up from a dream."

There was something that flitted across her expression. It wasn't pity, but something that vaguely looked like guilt and pain. It was humbling that she could let herself care about him that way, when he knew it had to look horrible from her point of view. Staying at home with her had opened his eyes to how terrified she must have been at first. He had walked through the halls of the house with her, recounting the stories of summers past, watching her stance relax a bit. The house was less strange to her then, less a prison and more of a home. She had laughed at the idea of a young Robert running around in his mother's garden, tracking in dirt and spilling an armful of flowers across his mother's lap.

"I'm sorry, Robert. I'm so sorry," she whispered, eyes searching his face. "You have no idea how sorry I really am."

"Don't be," he murmured, moving to cup her face with one hand. He moved to sit beside her. "I'm a better man now that I've known you. Maybe it was just a dream at first, but you gave me a purpose I didn't have. The company was something I inherited, but it wasn't really mine. I didn't make my mark there. I wasn't my own man. I was a shadow of my father, trying to get him to show that he gave a shit about me when he never would. He was too broken after my mother died, but I don't think I understood why. Not until now. Just the thought of being away from you terrifies me. I can't even imagine what it would be like if you were killed."

"Robert..." she began, a tendril of fear in her voice.

"But it's not just the dreams of you," he continued, his thumb tracing the edge of her bottom lip. Some of her lip gloss smeared across the ball of his thumb, but neither noticed it. "I'm getting to know you. The things you like, stories of your grandmother, your parents... I didn't know the real you. All I had was an ideal to live up to. But now I'm realizing you're even better than I could have imagined."

"Somehow, I don't think that's true," Ariadne murmured, shaking her head and pulling away slightly. "Real people are flawed and awful."

"Not you." He noticed the smear of the gloss on her lip and looked down at his hand. He brought it up to his mouth and licked the gloss from his thumb. This was what she would taste like, if he ever earned the right to kiss her. It was the cherry oil gloss she favored, and didn't taste like much. It was as ethereal as a dream, and that thought was enough to make him feel bittersweet and hollow. She was right here, close enough to touch, close enough to talk to, yet there was a chasm a mile wide still between them.

"You care," he said softly. "This terrified you, made you angry, and sometimes I think you don't believe me when I tell you how serious the dark woman is. But you still care about me. You still laugh at my stupid jokes and stories about when I was a silly boy. You still let me in. I'm getting to know you as much as you're getting to know me."

Fear flashed on her face for a second, and she turned away. "I don't think this is a good idea," she whispered, shaking her head.

"Are you afraid for me to love you?" Robert asked, tension thrumming in his body.

She turned to face him, and their faces were mere inches apart. "You've idealized this. This situation is artificial, and we're not who we otherwise would be. I can't... Robert, you deserve someone real. You deserve better than this."

Robert's heart clenched, but it wasn't in pain. If anything, she was showing him how selfless she was, what beauty and perfection was. This was the real side of her, no games, no flinching, no subtle digs to try to escape. This was a window into the core of her, and he could see her soul for the perfect goal that it was. It would be a challenge to try to match her, but he had to achieve it somehow. He would find a way.

He leaned forward before he knew what he was doing and kissed her, the taste of her gloss still on his tongue. For a moment, she responded to his kiss, her hand moving almost restlessly on his chest. Then she pulled away from him, eyes wide and startled, hand flying to her mouth as she stumbled out of the chair.

Ariadne fled the room, and he made no move to follow her. He had pushed her enough for one day. It was sufficient that she had kissed him back. That gave him hope.

***

Robert knocked on the door to Ariadne's room when she didn't show up for dinner. They had gotten into the habit of taking meals together. It was less lonely that way, and Robert was learning how to cook. He was at least managing not to burn things, which was always good. He didn't have to try to keep from laughing at Ariadne's expressions while she politely ate what had to be horrible tasting food. "Ariadne?" he asked, pushing at her door. It was a crack open, and he saw her curled up on her bed, staring at the wall. "Are you all right?"

She didn't answer right away. "I don't know," she said finally.

He almost stepped into the room to sit on the bed, but paused. "Can I come in?" he asked.

Ariadne turned and sat up, surprise on her face. "It's your house."

"This is your room. It's not a cell. I should be invited in."

"Like a vampire?" she teased, a smile lighting up her face.

Robert laughed, glad that she was still willing to joke and smile at him. "I'm probably pale enough to be one."

"Nah. Not vicious enough, I don't think," she said, shaking her head. She froze after a moment, and looked up at him. He could see that she was almost uncertain, as if not sure he would take offense or not.

He shrugged. "Business practices aren't exactly genteel sometimes," he began in an even tone, not wanting to scare her. "But I've never attacked anyone for no reason." Fist fights as a child, business threats and cold bloodedly killing loose ends that would threaten his life surely didn't count as violence for no reason.

"You can come in," Ariadne said, her voice sounding small and distant.

He crossed the room quickly and sat down on the edge of her bed, facing her but not touching her. "Aren't you going to come to dinner?"

"Was it that time already?" she asked faintly. Robert nodded, watching her face. "Oh," she said. "Sorry. I lost track of time."

It was easy to do. There were few clocks in the house for her to look at. She had no sense of time, no sense of urgency.

Robert almost wanted to ask if she was sorry they had kissed, if she thought he was trying to force her to give him more of herself than she wanted to. Moving slowly, he reached out and grasped her hand tightly. "Are you all right, Ariadne?"

She bit her lip, blinking back tears that threatened to fall. "I don't know," she said finally. "This isn't exactly going the way I planned."

"What do you mean?"

"You weren't supposed to kiss me," she whispered, shaking her head. "You weren't supposed to want to do that."

"You know I love you," he said, confused. What plan was she talking about? Other than the plan to make him a better man or influence him to let her go, she couldn't possibly have any other motives for him.

Ariadne looked pained for a moment, and he grasped her hands in his. She didn't pull away, but she couldn't meet his eyes either. "I love you," Robert repeated. "I loved you even before I met you, but I love _you._ The real you."

She shook her head, not able to speak. "Robert," she began softly. "This isn't real. None of what you're feeling is real."

This was a test of their bond, he knew. But looking at her pained expression, he wondered if he misjudged the situation. She never liked to hear him tell her he loved her. She could listen to anything else, laugh at all his stupid jokes, show him her artwork and talk about all manner of things. But she rarely accepted his words of praise. She wouldn't listen to him tell her he loved her. She couldn't accept that, and kept pushing it away.

Unless perhaps she truly believed what she was saying because she truly believed he couldn't possibly love her, that she wasn't worth that.

He understood the feeling.

"Ariadne," he said softly, leaning in close. "I know what I feel. I know it's real. It's the only thing that matters. It's the only thing that lasts, that keeps our memories alive." She didn't pull away from him, but Robert was afraid of getting too close, of scaring her off too quickly. "Tell me what you're thinking," he said gently. "I'll listen, you know I will."

"You wouldn't understand," she said, shaking her head. "This is my fault…"

"No," Robert insisted. "You can't say that. It's never a horrible thing if you give someone meaning, if you're part of the drive for me to be a better person. That's something wonderful. I didn't have that before. Now I have you, and neither of us will ever be alone again. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Ariadne." He resisted the urge to kiss her, to cover her face with his kisses and tell her just how necessary she was. Was this the real test? Was this how he proved himself to her?

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," she tried to say, shaking her head. "It was an idea, Robert. You were supposed to want to be your own man," she whispered softly. "You weren't supposed to love me."

This had to be what shock looked like. He couldn't imagine why she would be so appalled by the realization he loved her this way, especially when he had told her so many times. Perhaps she had told herself it was platonic love, that it was love of one human being toward another.

Someone had to have hurt her in the past for her to react like this. Robert wanted to track down whoever it was and rip them to shreds slowly.

"I do love you," he said softly, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I love you. I will always love you. I will never stop loving you. You mean everything to me. As necessary as breathing." He punctuated each phrase with a kiss against her forehead. "You don't have to be afraid. Maybe you care about me now. Maybe it's not love the same way. It doesn't matter. I can be patient. I can earn it. I'm not afraid of hard work. You know I'm not, and I'll wait for your love and respect, be the man you need me to be."

Her eyes were closed and her hands were clenched around his shirt. She couldn't say anything, and Robert simply wrapped his arms around her. He rocked her gently. "I love you," he whispered repeatedly as he rocked her. "I love you."

She didn't answer, but she also didn't sob or pull away from him. It had to mean something. It had to mean everything.

***

"I liked it," Ariadne said abruptly the next morning, standing in the doorway to his office. She was biting her lip, looking as though she was trying to keep her courage up and not run away from the room.

Robert blinked at her for a moment. "What did you like?" he asked, not following her train of thought. There hadn't been much conversation at breakfast.

"The kiss yesterday," she whispered, fingers twisting together in front of her.

He pushed away from his desk and took in her distressed expression. "What about it? Was it too forward of me?" he asked before he processed what she said. He blinked and rose from his seat as she shook her head silently. "So you liked it," he said slowly.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice a little rough with emotion.

He approached her slowly, then reached out to take her hands in his. Her nails were ragged and the cuticles were torn. Bringing her hands up to his mouth, he kissed them softly. Her eyes were wide and tracked his every movement. "Can I do it again?" he asked.

Ariadne licked her lips almost nervously, then nodded firmly, coming to a decision. "Yes."

Robert pulled her close and for a moment simply held her in his arms. She was stiff at first, surprised and confused by the lack of movement. He dropped his lips to the top of her head, waiting until she softened in his arms and seemed to accept his touch. Heart thudding in his chest, he stroked her back rhythmically. It was a soothing gesture, and it seemed to loosen her up a little more. She was less tense in his arms, less afraid.

"You think I only love you because of the dreams I had," he murmured into her hair.

"Don't you?" she challenged, holding onto his shirt.

"That might be where it started, but that's not what it is now. That's not what this is all about."

"Then what is it?" she asked, pulling back just far enough to look up at him.

Ariadne was so tiny in his arms, and Robert felt a protective urge surge through him. She was his to protect, his second chance. This was what he needed to be doing. This was everything his life had sent him toward.

"I love you. All of you, not just a dream. Not just what I thought you were about. I love the way your nose wrinkles when you correct your sketches. You clean up so carefully so you won't smudge the walls or leave graphite on your cheeks. You don't tell me I'm a horrible cook, even though we both know that I am. You try so hard not to make those faces, but I see them anyway," he added with a smile, letting his fingers brush against her cheeks. "You light up when you see the sunset, when the sky is that perfect shade of blue on your favorite scarf. Your cheeks flush pink when you're really happy with something, and your eyes shine. You can't sing and you try anyway, and you don't have to ask how I take my coffee. You just get me another cup in the morning, and you're already passing me things I need at dinner before I even ask. You take the time to see me, Ariadne. You _know_ me. And I love you. I love the _real_ you."

She opened her mouth, perhaps to contradict him. He had bent down to kiss her again at that exact moment, and she gasped instead. Robert let his tongue brush against the inside of her lips, gently taking in the taste of her. Ariadne could have pulled away if she wanted to, but she kept hold of him. She stayed where she was, and Robert deepened the kiss slowly. Ariadne responded, leaning into him, mouth opening a little farther beneath his.

She flew backward when her tongue touched his. "Robert, I... I don't know..."

He grasped her hand in his to keep her from running away. "It's all right." He gave her a tender smile, gently pulling her back toward him. "It's all right. I promise."

"How can you say that?" she asked, voice a little rough. She shook her head, looking almost panicked at his earnest expression. "It's not all right, Robert. This is not okay. This _isn't real._ This isn't you, and it's not part of you. It wasn't ever meant to be part of you. It's not all right. This can't be all right. And it _shouldn't_ be all right."

Robert pulled her in close and held her as she babbled. "It will be. You're keeping something from me, I know that. Maybe you think it'll change how I feel about you. Maybe you think that's why I can't love you the way I do." He kissed the top of her head gently. "It's all right, Ariadne. I can wait as long as it takes until you feel comfortable enough to tell me whatever it is. I'll be here for you, no matter what happens. I will do everything in my power to make you happy, Ariadne." He stroked her back in soothing circles, feeling her tremble in his arms. "You're my only priority, you know. You're all I need to feel whole."

She kept her face pressed against his chest, not able to say anything else. "Robert..."

"I love you, Ariadne. That's all I need to know."

***  
***


	6. Outside Looking In

Peter Browning had known Robert all of his life. He had worked with Maurice Fischer and Bennett Morrow when the company was first put together. Morrow died of a heart attack a few years afterward, leaving the entire company in Maurice Fischer's hands. He and Browning had taken the energy world by storm, leaving his wife and son behind. Maurice hadn't spent a lot of time with his wife, and Browning had tried to pick up the slack whenever he could. Maybe he had done too much throughout the years, and had gone beyond the scope of what his friendship with Maurice should have, but he couldn't regret it. He had devoted himself to the company and to the Fischer family. It was his family as far as he was concerned, especially once Maurice was widowed. Maurice couldn't stand to look at Robert sometimes, and Browning was the only stable and supportive influence in the boy's life.

This made Robert's sudden shift in affection all the more troubling.

They used to be close. Browning was Robert's godfather, for crying out loud. Robert had come to him with everything, even those vaguely disappointed feelings he had in himself when he couldn't seem to be the son that Maurice wanted. Browning had always tried to talk him through those dark periods. Robert was his own man now, but there were times that Browning thought his godson might not trust him anymore. There was no reason for that as far as Browning knew, and it seemed to be a sudden shift centering around the time of Maurice's funeral.

Now Robert was telecommuting, as if he couldn't stand to be in his own office. He had already left the home he had grown up in, the one that Browning remembered fondly from all his visits there. Robert was living in the summer house now, one where he hadn't really been invited to all that often. Why would he want to be out there? It was almost as if he was running away from Browning and the company.

Browning waited to hear from Robert to see when he planned to come back to the office and work. It didn't seem to be forthcoming, however. No one was allowed into Robert's office while he was away, and it was locked up tight.

As Robert's main backup within Fischer Morrow, Browning had access to the entire building. He walked up to the door and entered the access code to override the system and enter Robert's office. It was clean and spare, just as Robert had left it. There was a different energy to the office somehow. Browning couldn't explain it at first, and it was a few minutes before he could put his finger on it. Prior to the funeral, Robert's office was controlled chaos. His mind was on his father's illness and the company, trying to appear calm and collected while the vultures circled. His office had been a mess then, a reflection of his state of mind. Now the office was spotless, everything put away neatly. Robert's mind was in a calmer place, but Browning didn't know it anymore. He had somehow lost Robert's trust. Oh, he had his business confidence. That part would probably never be in doubt. Browning had somehow lost Robert's trust in other matters, and that was the part that rankled the most.

Feeling like a thief, Browning began to rifle through the drawers as the computer started up. He didn't know what he was looking for. He looked through everything, hoping he would find some kind of clue that would tell him why Robert was acting so strangely.

There were no clues in the drawers that Browning could find. The computer turned on, and the background was the plain default blue. He remembered that there used to be landscapes or designs of some kind before. Robert hated default settings to things. He liked to personalize his computers and space. He had always wanted to make some kind of personal mark on the world, needing to have a space that was _his_ and no one else's. In that respect, changing the company seemed to be a natural extension for Robert.

 _Browning began to look through all the different file folders and their contents. There were various pictures of family members scanned and saved, as well as pictures saved off of the internet. Frowning, he looked at saved documents and pulled up Robert's browser. His Outlook was synched up, and Browning opened it as well._

 _His blood ran cold when he saw the folder labeled "Dream" in Robert's computer. Inside of it were saved files regarding someone named Mallorie Cobb and Dominic Cobb, as well as blurry pictures of a young woman at an outdoor café. Browning had no idea what this was all about, but the photos of the young woman looked like surveillance photos. Mallorie Cobb was dead, with various articles stating it was a suicide and others stating it was suspected murder. There was an autopsy report, various police statements, and three psychiatric profiles done on Mallorie Cobb in the weeks prior to her death. Dominic Cobb was an architect currently living in the suburbs of LA, and had apparently been overseas for over two years on various consulting jobs while his wife's murder remained unsolved._

 _Browning didn't know what all this meant, but he didn't like the way these items were put together in a folder labeled "Dreams." He knew enough about the underhanded ways companies obtained information. Lord only knew how many different kinds of corporate espionage requests he and Maurice had put forth. He had argued for Robert having training in subconscious security as a result; Maurice had argued against it. Maurice had thought no one would ever think Robert was important enough to extract from. Browning knew better. He had arranged for the kidnapping insurance and security training. It was off the books and done without Maurice's knowledge or consent. Browning had mentioned training at several meetings, and Robert understood the implications right away._

 _Now Browning wondered if Robert was making use of that covert training after all._

 _Browning sent all of the pictures and news articles to the printer. It was easy enough to follow the trail that Robert had laid out with the articles. It wouldn't be difficult to find Dominic Cobb and find out what the hell he knew about Robert Fischer._

 __

***

 _It had been a favor that Stephen Miles had called in for Cobb, but he loved his position in the architecture firm. Cobb wasn't exactly entry level, but he wasn't high enough up in the firm to be in the position to make a name for himself. He didn't mind it, preferring the steady work and the chance to be grounded in reality and close to his children. He was startled when Janice Motta stopped by his workstation with a sly smile on her face. She had dropped a few casual hints that she might be interested in spending time with him after work, using the excuse of comparing design theories over drinks. Cobb wasn't interested in dating, but she was brilliant at what she did in the firm. He counted her as one of his good friends._

 _"I thought you weren't jockeying for a partnership?" she teased._

 _"I'm not," he replied with a frown. "Why? What's going on?"_

 _"Apparently, someone is requesting your presence for a private conference." The smile on her face dimmed somewhat at his confused frown. "Oh. You really aren't joking."_

 _"No," he said, shaking his head. "I like how things are now. Really, I do," he insisted when Janice lofted an eyebrow at him. "I did a consulting job for a while," he said with a shrug. "I want something steady while my kids are young."_

 _"Well, tell me what the meeting's about, all right?" Janice said, voice dropping into a low whisper. "If you really don't want a partnership, maybe you can help me?"_

 _Cobb laughed. "You deserve the chance at it, Janice," he told her honestly. "Especially if it's between you and Henry."_

 _She gave him a pleased smile. "You think so?" she asked, pulling a chair up to sit beside his workstation. "Odds are, I still might not make it. Henry's last design was an utter piece of shit that never got built, but his cousin is married to Grenier's sister."_

 _"Grenier strikes me as a man that values talent," Cobb told her soothingly. He patted her arm gently. For a moment, she almost looked like Mal, and Cobb nearly froze. But her smile was wider and her laugh was a little harsher somehow, though there wasn't a vindictive note to her at all. Then she shifted her head and Janice looked like herself again, her hair not quite as dark as Mal's and her eyes their own shade of vivid green. "You'll be okay."_

 _"Thanks. You know, if you ever change your mind..." she said, trailed off._

 _"It's still fresh in my mind," Cobb demurred. "It wouldn't be fair to you."_

 _"I know," she said, shrugging. "But if we're both pulling such long hours, it's not like either of us can go out and meet anyone else. And I do like you." She gave his hand a squeeze. "You're a good friend, Dom."_

 _She scuttled away before Cobb could reply, and he saw Grenier's secretary come into the main work area. She was headed straight toward him, and he put down the pen he had just picked up. It looked like he had a meeting to go to._

 _He had been in the different meeting rooms, of course. Sometimes when he pulled all nighters with the rest of the team he would wind up taking the white boards into the space to draw. He thought best out loud, though he missed Arthur poking holes in his plans. Janice wasn't as good as Arthur was, though she thought like an architect. She didn't deflate Cobb's ego quite as well, and the others in the firm seemed indifferent to politely cordial. He didn't want to compare this to the dream share world, but sometimes it was hard not to._

 _Especially if Peter Browning was sitting at the meeting table, staring at him._

 _Cobb was sure his step didn't falter as he walked into the office, Grenier's secretary making the introductions between the two men. "Mr. Browning. I have to admit, this is a surprise. I would have thought you'd want to meet with Mr. Grenier regarding any designs. This is his firm, after all. I'm not even partner."_

 _"Only for lack of trying," Browning replied evenly. He looked at Cobb, at the brushed back hair, blue eyes and well worn suit. He looked like every other businessman, but Browning knew differently. He could see the faint lines of tension around Cobb's eyes. "But then, this is a much less demanding job than your previous one was, wasn't it?"_

 _"I'm sorry?" Cobb asked, keeping his voice polite and disinterested._

 _Browning slapped down the manila folder containing the print outs from Robert's computer. "I think perhaps we can dispense with the games, Mr. Cobb?" he asked, pushing the folder at the confused architect. He watched the color drain from Cobb's face as he looked at the articles, at the contact lists Browning had put together. "You never did change your name. You hid in plain sight in countries without extradition treaties. Or with complicated ones. It didn't take me very long to find you."_

 _Cobb looked at Browning, fear running down his spine. His first thought was for his children, that he couldn't let them come into danger. "I'm not in that business anymore, Mr. Browning," he said coolly, pushing the folder back at him. "I only do real world design now."_

 _"I don't need an extractor," Browning said, voice steely as he stared at Cobb. "I want to know what you did with my godson."_

 _Cobb simply blinked at him. "What?"_

 _"You missed the last page in the folder," Browning replied, pointing. "Go on, take a look. It's a flight manifest. Interesting how one of the names on it was your own."_

 _"I was coming home," Cobb replied evenly, looking up at him. "I don't know where you got this information from..."_

 _"Let's not insult each other's intelligence," Browning snapped, eyes flashing. "You did something to my godson on that flight. Ten hours is a long time, and we both know a lot of damage can be done in ten hours. What did you do to him?"_

 _"Look, Mr. Browning," he began in a somewhat placating tone._

 _"Or shall I try to find out who these other aliases belong to? I'm sure they were in on it. Or bribed to be. Teams are usually three or four, aren't they?" Browning continued. "There are names associated with yours. I'm sure Cobol Engineering would be interested in a word with you."_

 _Cobb blanched. "I just needed to get home," he said abruptly. "I needed to get back to my children. We didn't take anything out of his mind."_

 _Browning leaned back in his chair and took in Cobb's expression. There was a tightness around the eyes and the tension was magnified. He had seen pictures of the children, of course. They were beautiful, and obviously the light of Cobb's life. "What _did_ you do?"_

"I was paid to implant an idea," Cobb said softly. "He was to break up the company and keep it from becoming an international superpower."

Robert's business plans all seemed to click into place suddenly, and Browning just looked at Cobb, at the pained expression on his face. "Was this worth it?"

Now there was a ruthless streak in his expression that mirrored his own, and Browning could suddenly see why he had once been a good extractor. "I needed to get home. Yes, it was."

"Then you understand why I need to know _exactly_ what was done to Robert."

 _Cobb looked down at the other pages in the folder, past the contact list to the fight manifest. He froze at the blurry picture of Ariadne. "Oh my god."_

 _"What?"_

 _He looked up at Browning with a look of dread. "Where did you get these?"_

 _"Robert had them."_

 _"She went missing three months ago," Cobb said, snapping the folder shut. "I need to go."_

 _Browning stood when Cobb did. "Tell me what's going on."_

 _"I told you what we did, Mr. Browning," Cobb said tightly._

 _"Not the details..."_

 _"Does it matter?" Cobb snapped. "We did what we were paid to do. He broke up the company enough that it's no longer an international monopoly. What do you want from me?"_

 _"What did you _do?"_ Browning thundered. "He's _changed._ He's not the same man he was before you did this to him!"_

Cobb shook his head at Browning. "It shouldn't be... It was a small thing," he said finally, knowing it was a weak excuse. Of all people, he knew how dangerous inception could be, how the intent of the thing could explode into something much more unstable. "It shouldn't have done that much damage," he told Browning.

"Shouldn't," Browning repeated. "What was it you told him?" he hissed. "What did you _say_ to make him change his mind? I know a little bit about this sort of thing. I know that messing around with someone's head never is _supposed_ to hurt them, but sometimes you can't help how someone will react. You never really can tell, can you?"

"It's not like that," Cobb began.

"You were a _thief,_ Mr. Cobb," Browning said tightly. "Why shouldn't I try to figure out who else on that flight manifest was part of it? Why shouldn't I have you all arrested? Maybe one of them will sell you out and tell me what I need to know."

There was that ruthlessness in his eyes again, the sharp and ugly knowledge that perhaps Cobb had done unspeakable things in his time. Browning could respect that, but he would have to push him harder, apparently. "Who's the girl, then? What does she have to do with Robert?"

Cobb's expression shuttered suddenly. "Nothing. She has nothing to do with it."

"I'm not an idiot," Browning snapped. "There's only one woman on that flight manifest. Was she Anne Henderson, then? Was she part of it all? Corrupting innocent-looking little girls to help you steal ideas that don't belong to you is all part of the job?" Browning taunted.

Cobb lunged at Browning, grabbing him by the front of his suit jacket. "What has he done with her?" he snarled. "What did he do that you're covering up for him?"

Browning was older, but wasn't a slouch when it came down to self defense either. The two men tussled until it was clear neither would give in. "What did you do to Robert?" Browning repeated, staring at Cobb. "What did you do to his mind?"

"He was to be his own man," Cobb said finally. "He needed to stop living in his father's shadow and make his own mark. Break up the company, make his own. That was all."

"You've changed _everything!"_ Browning shouted.

Cobb saw that now, and the knowledge flitted across his face for a brief moment before his expression shut down again. He straightened his own suit jacket, though he looked rumpled and Janice would notice. She had sharp eyes that way. "It was my only way home."

"And what's to stop me from exposing what you did?" Browning snarled. "They'll take your children away from you."

He looked at Browning with cool eyes. "Perhaps. But you won't get your godson back. Fischer Morrow will still be split apart. She might be dead," Cobb said, pointing toward the folder wearily. "Exposing me will expose the rest of it, and you wouldn't want Robert to go to prison for murder, do you?"

"She might not be dead," Browning said. "You don't know that."

"She's been missing for three months. He somehow found out about me and the dream sharing world. You know him as well as I do by now. Do you really think he'd take that lightly?"

"Then why her? Why not _you?_ You're not difficult to find."

"No, I'm not," Cobb admitted. "But there are protections in place," he said, hoping it was still somewhat true. "She didn't have them." None that he knew of, at any rate. All he knew was that she had gone back to school, which was a pleasant surprise for Miles. Arthur had been talking with her, and he had been upset when she went missing.

Browning looked as if he had swallowed something ugly and bitter. "And if I hired you to change him back?"

For a split second, Cobb was almost tempted. It would be something, if he could perform inception and then counter it. There were whispers that Arthur had told him about, the awe and respect across their community. Cobb could almost have that back, with a lot less risk to his personal safety or the safety of his children.

But that was the sticking point. He had risked everything and everyone to get back to Phillipa and James. Arthur always forgave him for his offenses, but no one else would have similar sentiments toward his actions. He was just lucky that no one wanted him dead even now.

"I can't," Cobb said, true regret in his tone.

Browning pulled down on his own suit jacket and gave Cobb a sharp look. "This isn't over."

"Of course not," Cobb said tiredly, watching Browning take the folder and leave. He shut the office door and took out his cell phone from his jacket pocket. He dialed Arthur's number, not remembering what time it would be in Paris.

As he expected, Arthur picked up the phone. "What's the emergency?" Arthur said, a sharp edge to his voice. Cobb winced at the sound of it.

"Browning was just here," Cobb said. "Apparently, Fischer knows something. He knows about me, had articles about Mal... He had surveillance photos of Ariadne."

Arthur sucked in a breath. "How the hell would he have that? No one was after her. No one even knew she existed. She wasn't on the grid at all. I made sure of that."

"I don't know," Cobb snapped. "But somehow he knew about her, and he got a surveillance photo. It looked like Paris, so he must have tracked her down." He sat down heavily in one of the chairs. "What if she's dead, Arthur?"

"No," he said sharply. "She can't be."

"Arthur, it's been three months. No sign of a struggle, no ransom note, nothing. And if he remembers anything about what we did, why would he keep her alive?" Cobb ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to think the worst, I really don't. But why?"

"I'll find out," Arthur replied, determination in his tone. "There has to be a reason for this. She wouldn't just disappear. I _know_ she wouldn't just go off with him." Arthur paused. "He had information on you. Maybe he threatened you."

 _"Me?_ I'm out of the game, and she knows that. What would be the point?" Cobb blew out a breath. "If Fischer wanted to take me out, there would be plenty of opportunity. But there hasn't been any word in my direction. _Nothing."_

"She was there all the way down with you," Arthur said slowly. "What if that's why he looked for the two of you? Because he remembered something about limbo?"

"He never had her name," Cobb said, shaking his head. "She wasn't a player. There's no way he could have found out."

"She was trying to be," Arthur told him. There was a bleakness in his voice that Cobb could hear, something that twisted at him. "She was working with me."

"Oh, God, Arthur... I'm so sorry..." Cobb began, a sinking sensation deep in his gut.

"It wasn't like that," Arthur said sharply. Cobb wondered if he should apologize, if maybe it hadn't been a romantic relationship but Arthur had wanted it to be. He had worked with Mal for years before he had actually asked her out, after all. Maybe it was the same for Arthur. "She was in the middle of designing for a job I was working on. No one had her name, but she's been seen with me a few times. She might have gotten noticed simply because of that."

"Because they know you're associated with me," Cobb said with a sigh.

"And I'm still in the game," Arthur said tightly. "I never left, never planned to. I'll put out a few feelers, see what my contacts have to say. We'll find her, Dom. Now we at least have a place to start with. If he's done anything, he won't live long enough to regret it."

Cobb stared at the phone in shock. Arthur had just hung up on him, and he thought he heard some self recrimination in his voice. It was the same vague thread that had been there after Mal's suicide, when he blamed himself for not seeing her deterioration. Mal had hidden it well, and there had been very little to see. Cobb had known it was there, but it had been his fault. He had never even told Arthur directly about that inception, if only because of his own guilt. Arthur likely thought the guilt was because of some stupid argument, something else that happened that made Cobb run. Arthur knew how much the children meant to him, and his shade of Mal contained all his feelings of guilt and remorse. He had never once blamed him for all the abuse the shade had heaped on him, though he had every right to.

Cobb put his phone back in his pocket and stared at the floor for a while. There was so much he had never thought about with the inception job, and it was starting to crash down around him. He had his year of bliss, thinking everything had gone right and he could start over. Now it seemed as though everyone around him was paying for all of his mistakes. Just like last time, with Mal.

Browning was right. This wasn't over, not by a long shot.

***  
***


	7. Letting Everything Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get some of those NC-17 sexytimes in this chapter...

Ariadne was restless. From nerves or anticipation, maybe a combination of both. The first kiss with Robert had startled her. As much as he had told her that he loved her, she never truly let herself think of it as a romantic love. He petted her and touched her physically, but she had always told herself it was simply a reminder that she was real, that he hadn't simply dreamt her up. She didn't let herself believe.

The worst part of it was, she had responded. And she hadn't been thinking of her plan at the time.

After fleeing, she tried to tell herself that her plan was working. Robert trusted her more and more now. He didn't need to lock her up, didn't need to keep watch on her at all times. Though there were security cameras everywhere, he didn't seem to take notice of her movements. She strayed close to the walls, tried digging deep to see how far down they went, and even tried climbing them at one point. They were too smooth, too tall, too impregnable. The walls were doing their job of keeping others out and keeping her in. There was no way out under her own power, so she would have to follow this lead. She would have to seduce him, let him believe that she was falling for him. Then she could persuade him to let her out, or steal the key that he kept around his neck at all times. Once outside of the walls, she could run.

It wasn't acting when she went back to his office and said she liked the kiss. She did like it, entirely too much. She felt awful for even thinking she would manipulate him further. He didn't know what she had done to his mind, however innocently. It hadn't felt real before, and now she knew just how much of him they had all warped.

And yet...

His touch was comforting. She had always been a sensory person, enjoying the feel of textures and the sight of different colors and shapes. Robert always reached out for her, and his presence was soothing. His kiss was slow and steady, somewhat grounding in its own right. He didn't push her for anything, and let her go when she pulled away. Every time they pushed against a boundary that Ariadne thought she should have, he gave her time to figure things out.

He _loved_ her. He didn't seem to care that she was keeping something from him as she struggled to tell him the truth without implicating the others. He truly loved her. She mattered to him. He was reshaping his entire world to try to please her and keep her safe.

And she was noticing things about him, too.

It was humbling and terrifying to be the focus of his attention. His eyes were sincere when they looked at her, and his expression was ardent. He meant what he was saying. He _believed_ with every fiber of his being. He loved her, didn't want to imagine a world without her in it, didn't want to even contemplate his life without her.

She wanted to cry that night. If only it hadn't been Robert reshuffling his life around to protect her from an imagined threat. If only she didn't bear the burden of all of this guilt.

"Ariadne?" he asked, seeing her sitting in the den. She was staring at the wall, not really seeing what was there. His voice was gently questioning. He would listen if she wanted to talk or would leave if she didn't. He wanted to desperately to prove himself to her, for her to find him worthy of her affection.

She actually wished she could freely give it.

Ariadne turned to look at Robert, not realizing she had started crying. Startled by the fear and worry in his expression, she cringed as he came closer. "I don't understand," he murmured, kneeling in front of her. "I thought..."

Wiping at her eyes hastily, she shook her head. "I don't know what this is," she said. "I don't know, I don't know."

He rose to his knees in front of her, then placed his hands on the couch on either side of her. It should have made her feel boxed in, should have made her feel threatened. Her chest was a gaping, aching hole, and she was almost afraid of what was inside of it. Robert was slow as he leaned forward, as he rested his lips against her forehead. "I was afraid somehow she found us," he murmured. "That she tried to hurt you."

"No one's here but us, Robert," Ariadne whispered brokenly. "We're alone."

"I'll always be here for you, Ariadne," he said, pushing her hair back gently.

His mouth found hers, and one of his hands came to cup her face, fingers pressed against her hair. It was a slow and delicate kiss at first, but he gradually deepened it. Ariadne held onto his shoulders, feeling as if she was drowning. His other hand came to rest at her waist, and he was leaning into her. She fell back against the couch, pulling him with her, and he was pressed tight against her body, kneeling between her legs. She gasped when she realized it, when she felt how intimately their bodies were pressed together. His tongue slid into her mouth to stroke hers gently. If there was any demand there, he was willing to put it aside until she was more comfortable with it.

 _I wish I could just love you,_ she thought suddenly, and was ashamed of herself. This wasn't real, none of it. This was a mistake, and she owed him the truth after everything that had happened between them. Robert believed in something that didn't exist, a version of her that was idealized and not at all like reality. He said he loved the real her, not just her dream self, but she couldn't trust it.

He slowly moved the hand at her waist up toward her breast, then cupped it through her clothes. She could push his hand away if she wanted to, could stop all of this right now. She wouldn't have to feel dirty or ashamed of this, of herself, of the tangled and twisted emotions roiling inside of her.

Robert's fingers moved over her, tantalizingly slowly, drawing the breath right out of her lungs and into his mouth. She was in three thin layers, but it felt as if his skin was directly over hers, as if she was exposed to him. She couldn't even remember the last time someone had touched her like this, reverent and hopeful, as if her attention was a gift. She had never been kissed with such longing.

Her last kiss before this hadn't even been real.

Ariadne couldn't help the low moan escaping her throat at his touch, and Robert smiled against her lips. He stroked her and kept his kiss languid and sensual. She grabbed at his shoulders, fingers digging in deep. She didn't trust herself not to touch him back, not to slide her hands beneath his clothes to feel his skin. The anticipation in her stomach was a coiled thing, flooding through her and making her shake with it. She didn't know how far she was willing to go with this charade, or even if it was wholly a charade anymore.

He had to break the kiss to breathe, but he layered kisses along her jawline. He slid his other hand down to her waist, pulling her hips against his. Ariadne could feel his erection pressed up against her thigh. It should have frightened her, should have made her withdraw and second guess this foolish plan of hers.

Instead, she hooked her leg around his waist and pulled him in closer.

Robert made a soft, desperate sound against her throat, and he slipped his hand beneath the layers of cami and blouse until his fingers found her skin. He stroked her, making her moan at the sensation, her head lolling back against the back of the couch. He rolled her nipple between his fingers, sucking at the skin of her throat, body pressed tight to hers.

Desire shot through her, and Ariadne wanted more of this so fiercely it took her breath away. Her hands seemed to pull at his shirt of their own accord, as if her thoughts had nothing to do with it. Robert made a choking sound as her hips shifted restlessly beneath him and she rubbed against his erection. "Ariadne," he moaned, lips falling to her collarbone. He shifted his position, pressing kisses along her bared skin until he could pull her breast free of her clothes and suckle it. She cried out and arched into his touch, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. Her breathing was harsh and ragged in the silence, little desperate noises coming low in her throat. She should stop this, should push him away. She shouldn't pull him closer or shift beneath him as if inviting more.

He ran one hand down her stomach and then undid the button on her jeans. Ariadne didn't freeze at that, didn't pull away. She shifted her hips to allow him better access to the zipper and even helped to shimmy partway out of them. "What am I doing?" she asked, feeling almost separated from her body as he knelt between her spread legs, his lips moist and eyes shining with desire. "I... Robert? What am I doing?"

"Is this what you want?" he asked, hands gentle on her thighs.

"I don't know," she whispered, almost frightened.

"May I kiss you again?" he asked, rising to his haunches, gaze intent on her face.

"Yes," she said, licking her lips nervously.

Robert's mouth devoured hers, and she clung to him desperately as she gave herself over to the sensation of it. She was wet and aching, his clothed erection pressed against her. He ran his hand over her bared breast, fingers tracing circles over the nipple. Ariadne didn't recognize the noises she was making deep in her throat, little desperate sounds of desire. She pulled at her shirt suddenly, wanting his hands on her skin, wanting to feel real again. He helped her, then pressed a thousand tiny kisses across her skin. He was worshiping her with his mouth, his fingers light as they danced across her stomach.

Ariadne whimpered when he pressed them against her, damp cloth the only thing separating them. She wanted him inside her suddenly, and was embarrassed by the strangled "Please" that escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Robert sucked on her other breast as his fingers rubbed her through her panties. Ariadne clung to him, nearly weeping with the pleasure flooding through her. She cried out in protest when he took his hand away from her, but then he was sliding it beneath the cloth. He traced her slick folds, then pushed a finger inside her. She made a strangled noise of need and clung tightly with her arms around his shoulders. "More," she moaned, head falling back as he moved his hand against her slowly. "Oh God, Robert, please, more," she moaned, her eyes falling shut.

He complied, moving his fingers against her or inside her, gauging her reactions and giving her more of anything that made her cry out in pleasure. Robert sucked harder on her breast when she moaned louder. When she came with her body clenching down tight around his fingers, he slowed down and then sat back to look up at her.

Breathing ragged, Ariadne watched as he licked his fingers. His gaze never left her face, and there was adoration in his eyes. She shivered at the intensity of it, at knowing that he _loved_ her, dear God. She was sure she didn't deserve this kind of devotion.

"Robert," she whispered. She didn't know what she was going to say next, if she even wanted him to stop.

He reared up and kissed her, tongue in her mouth and his hands on her shoulders. That same intensity was in his kiss now. She could taste his devotion to her, could feel every ounce of love he felt for her.

She was unbuttoning his shirt before she even knew what she was doing, then running her hands along his chest. "I love you," he whispered against her neck as she pushed his shirt from his shoulders. "I love you, Ariadne," he whispered against her collarbone.

Ariadne couldn't answer, could only whimper at his touch or call his name. The rest of their clothes disappeared, and she couldn't even track where they went. He pulled her hips to the edge of the couch. She could stop this, she could push him away and say she couldn't go through with this, she couldn't lie to him _this way,_ but the words died on her lips.

It wasn't a lie. She wanted this, wanted _him,_ wanted to believe that maybe she wasn't a horrible human being and could be saved by his love.

Ariadne guided him into her and pushed her hips up. She let out a strangled sound as he slid into her. It felt _perfect,_ as if she had waited her whole life for this moment, and all she could do was run her hands along his chest and shoulders as he moved above her.

He cradled her afterward as she wept from the release of months of tension, arms tight around her and his face tucked into the curve of her neck, lips pressed against her pulse. Her own arms were around his back, her fingers tracing the flex of his muscles beneath the skin. "I love you," he whispered against her neck again, worried that he'd moved too fast and now she regretted the decision. He didn't push for answers, didn't intend for her to simply say the words unless she meant it.

Ariadne ran the fingers of one hand through the hair at the nape of his neck and let her other hand run down the length of his spine. There was a slight shiver in his body, a tremor that shook her entire tiny frame beneath his. She felt protected somehow; he would shield her with his own body, would bend and shape the world to keep her safe, would bend over backward to keep her happy. Despite her flaws, he loved her. It wasn't just the dream, and even knowing that she believed all this to be a mistake, he loved her anyway.

"I care about you, too," she whispered. It felt like a cop out, as if she was cheating him somehow by not being able to say the words back. He longed to hear them, needed to hear them, but she couldn't quite get the words out of her mouth.

He smiled against her neck. "It'll be all right, Ariadne," he murmured softly.

"But we..."

Robert pulled back just enough to smile at her fondly. "We need to sleep. Come with me?" he asked, holding out his hand.

The choice was hers. The choice was always hers.

She took his hand and let him lead her to his bedroom.

***

Ariadne didn't know where she was when she woke up, and felt an overwhelming surge of panic run through her. There was an arm tossed over her stomach, a body pressed against hers and the rumble of someone deeply asleep behind her. Gingerly, she turned her head and saw Robert's dark hair sticking up. She moved his arm aside slowly, making sure not to wake him. He stirred and turned over onto his back, arms flung wide. He looked innocent. Ariadne had a vague urge to climb back into bed, straddle his waist and lick the line of his throat until he woke up.

Startled, she grabbed a shirt from the floor and put it on without thinking. She shivered inside of Robert's shirt, the tails hanging down and covering her thighs. Her bedroom wasn't far away, and she yanked the bedside table drawer open. She seized her bishop and tipped it over.

 _Clunk._ Reality, reality, reality. No matter how many times she tested it, it was always coming up as reality.

She felt like a sleepwalker as she went to the bathroom and then splashed water on her face. Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her, wide eyed and innocent. Was this what Robert saw when he looked at her? Was that what she hoped she could still become? She didn't feel innocent, especially not after what happened last night. It was easier to explain away a few kisses or touches. It was harder to tell herself she could stop her plans if she had wanted him inside her, wanted his touch.

Her grip on the sink was tight as she stared at her reflection. What was she doing? Why was she going farther with this?

Ariadne walked back to Robert's bedroom. He was still asleep, arms flung wide and sheets tangled around his waist. His chest was exposed to her view, and she felt tenderness at his obvious vulnerability to her.

The key was on the dresser. She could take it, get dressed and simply walk away. She could get out of the house, pick a direction and _walk._ She could take his cell phone and call Arthur, time difference be damned. He must have been worried sick about her and been turning the entire world upside down to find her.

But he didn't want her. Not like this, not the way she wanted to be wanted.

Ariadne had no idea how long she stood there in the bedroom, watching Robert sleep. She was wrestling with all of her different impulses. It wouldn't be fair to Robert if she ran. It wouldn't be fair to him if she stayed.

She had to fix this somehow. She had to fix _him,_ however she could. She owed him, and he didn't understand that.

He stirred, and the moment of decision was wrenched from her. Robert panicked when he couldn't feel her beside him in the bed, and he shot upright. His eyes were wide with terror until they fixed on her standing there in his shirt. "Oh."

Ariadne felt her lips curl into a slight smile. "I could have run," she said, not knowing why she pointed that out to him.

His eyes didn't even flick to his keys and phone on the dresser. "What do you want to do, Ariadne?" he asked, voice even and gentle.

"I don't know anymore," she whispered. She could still hear the clunk of her bishop against the bedside table, the feel of its weight in her palm. Reality, reality, reality.

"Come back to bed," he said softly. "Please."

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord. Maybe it was the please that did it. Maybe it was vulnerable look on his face, the sheer terror when he was afraid that she was gone. He worried about the dark woman, Mal's shade. He still thought she was real, that she would come and rip Ariadne to shreds.

Ariadne grasped his outstretched hand and clambered onto the bed. She straddled his waist, the sheets between them. His eyes were so blue, so wide and adoring. Their hands were linked, but she didn't feel tiny or helpless. She could break him. With just a word, she could shatter his entire world and send it tumbling to pieces. Just a look, just the merest hint of disapproval or regret. She was the center of his universe, the sun his world revolved around.

"I love you," he whispered, sprawled beneath her. He was vulnerable, bare skin and throat exposed to her. She knew she could dig inside his chest and rip his heart. She could do it literally or figuratively, and he would never stop her.

"I know," she replied, eyes shining with tears. "I wish I deserved it."

He brought her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "You do. You know you do. Why else tell me you could have run away? Why else are you still here?"

"I don't know, I don't know."

"You said you cared," Robert continued. It was a subtle push, but one that didn't make her flinch in self recrimination.

"I don't know, Robert," she repeated, shaking her head. "I don't. I don't."

He gave her hands a gentle tug, and she fell on top of him, curled up on his chest. His heart beat steadily beneath her ear, and Ariadne let out a shuddering sigh. "You do," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. "You're afraid of it, just like I was."

"When did you stop being afraid of it?" Ariadne whispered, eyes shut tight.

Robert laughed, the entire motion rolling through her. "I didn't stop. I'm still afraid I'm going to wake up and find out this was all a dream. I'm afraid I'll still be alone, I'll still be a failure, and everything I thought I knew was all a lie."

Ariadne pulled back and looked at him with a plaintive expression. "What if it is? What if this is all built on a lie? That I lied to you?"

He cradled her face in his hands. "You tell me the truth," he said softly. "You try so hard to tell me the truth. Maybe there are parts you don't tell me, things you haven't figured out yet. Maybe I'm not trustworthy yet, and you're still trying to decide." He brushed his thumbs against her cheeks and watched as her eyes fluttered. "I love you, Ariadne. I know that. It's a truth that's part of me. You make me whole. That will never be a lie."

"What if it is? What if all of this is nothing but a lie? An idea implanted in your mind?" She looked at him, miserable. "There was a team of us. We went into your mind to plant an idea, but it was never supposed to be like this," Ariadne said, imploring him with her eyes to believe her.

"It doesn't matter how this started. Let go of your fear, Ariadne," Robert said, voice soft and soothing. "This is what it is. I love you, all of you. It might have been unintended, but that one accidental thing has made my life better than it was before, and for that alone I could forgive you anything. I will never reject or abandon you. You won't have to be afraid of this, of me, of anything. It's freeing if you let go of it, if you just accept that this is part of who I am. I have."

"What if you change your mind?" she asked, her voice breaking.

"Then you can change it back for me," Robert insisted with a smile, running his thumb over the edge of her trembling lip. It sounded like absolution to her, and Ariadne was almost afraid that she was misinterpreting it. "This isn't something that can be manipulated. Love like this could never be, even if you could give someone the idea that they should love someone. You can't change someone that much in a dream."

"How do you _know?"_ she insisted, nearly wailing.

Robert's smile was beatific. "I know this is real. You are real to me. All of this is real. This is reality, Ariadne. I love you. I will always love you, always be here for you."

She could still hear the clunk of her bishop falling, could still feel the weight of it in her palm. Reality, reality, reality. Ariadne knew this was really happening, that she wasn't trapped in someone else's dream. This could be their dream, one they built together.

She nodded and lowered herself back down on top of him. The ache in her chest had eased and she wasn't trembling any longer. He pulled her close, cradling her against his body.

God help her, but it felt like home.

***  
***


	8. Unhappy Revelations

"You look happier," Browning commented when Robert logged in for their video conference. It was just before the Board of Directors meeting, and Robert had refused to leave the house to attend it in person. The video was a compromise.

"Things are all falling into place," Robert replied with a smile. "I really think this new outline should work. The research is sound, and I've had memos back from R&D that says the cost benefit ratio would work in our favor, especially with the new tax laws as they're being rewritten. It should really put us on the map with new energy sources."

Something flickered in Browning's expression, and Robert caught it. He stared at his godfather, remembering the vague feelings of unease and mistrust. It felt too natural to be part of any attempt at inception, no matter what Ariadne had told him. He had doubted some of Browning's intentions even before his father died. The expression didn't have to mean anything regarding _him,_ but he suddenly was certain that it did.

He was getting paranoid, and it didn't sit well with him.

The conversation was bland when it was about the business, and the presentation before the Board went well. If any of them were concerned about Robert not physically coming in to the office, none of them commented or looked discomfited. To be perfectly honest with himself, he hated the posturing he used to endure. He hated putting himself on display as Maurice's son, having to keep himself aloof and calm at all times. He hated having to stuff himself down deep and keep things logical and businesslike. He could do it, and he did it very well, but it wasn't who he had wanted to be. Robert couldn't imagine how he had suffered like that for so long without even realizing how much of his soul it had shredded.

"Robert," Browning said as the Board meeting ended. "Hang on there, don't terminate the connection just yet." Robert nodded and waited as the others filed out. Browning locked the door and turned to the camera, concern etched onto his features. "You've been gone for a month, Robert. No one's seen you except on camera. I'm worried about you. When are you coming back to your office?"

Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes like a teenager, Robert shook his head. "This seems to be working out much better for everyone involved. I'm checking in as often as I need to, but the board doesn't have to feel as though I'm pushing them every moment of every day. It's working, Uncle Peter," he added, throwing in the honorific to appease his godfather. Browning was just worried about him. It was all he seemed to do, after all. He had worried after Maurice, worried after his mother, worried after him. The only one he never seemed to worry about was himself, and he didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with that.

"We need you _here,_ Robert. We need you leading the company. We need your presence here, giving direction. You're a natural leader when you let yourself be one, Robert, and it feels like you're slipping away."

"For God's sake, Uncle Peter," Robert cried, exasperated. "You make it sound like I'm not involved at all anymore. I haven't abandoned anyone."

"It feels like you have," Browning said, voice grave. "You don't come in. You aren't seen. You're pulling away from everyone you've ever known." He paused, looking uncertain. "Is it your father? Is it Maurice's death? I know it hit you pretty hard when it happened, but I thought you were doing better."

Something broke inside of Robert's chest. "We've talked about him dozens of times. I've said all that really needs to be said on the subject." He used to wish this man had been his father and not just his godfather. He used to wish that Browning was in control of Fischer Morrow so that he didn't have to be. He used to wish a lot of things.

Now he was just tired of all the bullshit and stress. He wanted this over and gone, with less and less of the past hanging over him. How was he supposed to grow and develop and be his own man if Browning kept pulling him backward? Maybe that was what fueled the mistrust. In a way, Maurice and Peter both wanted the same thing from him, but the methods they used were different. It was almost like they were playing good cop, bad cop.

Browning was shaking his head. "I'm worried about you." He paused, as if rolling words about in his head and trying to decide on which ones were the right ones. Robert didn't remember him ever looking so at a loss before. Browning finally looked right at him in the camera. "I need to talk to you, Robert. In person."

Robert sighed. "Uncle Peter..."

"You're lost, Robert. I don't know how to fix this. I won't until you tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on. I'm running the company a different way. A newer way, with less pain than my father ever did."

There was shock and pain on Browning's face. "Robert..."

"I think we're done for today," Robert said abruptly, not able to stand the look of distress on Browning's face. He had been more of a father figure to him than Maurice had, and he couldn't trust him. Things were twisted and knotted up inside of him, a vague uneasiness he couldn't ignore, as if things were snowballing and about to bury him. Something was happening, and he didn't know what it was.

Ariadne would calm him down. Even if she was afraid of what was developing between them, it was only because she wanted to make sure it was what he really wanted. She wanted him to be as happy as he could possibly be, and he just hadn't made her see yet that she was necessary to his whole. He was close to getting there, but he still had work to do.

"I worry," Browning tried again, expression softening.

"You don't have to," Robert told him, voice less harsh. "I'm fine, Uncle Peter. Everything is going to be okay. Trust me."

But as Robert closed the connection, it was very clear that Browning didn't trust him at all.

***

Ariadne looked at Robert over dinner. "You're upset about something."

He had been holding his fork with a white knuckled grip, and he had to forcibly set it down beside his place. He looked at her earnest expression, her wide eyes and parted lips and had to tamp down on the urge to kiss her. "Work things," he said, not wanting to trouble her with the thought that Browning didn't trust him. He didn't trust Browning either most of the time, and it was troubling enough as it was. She didn't need something else to blame herself for, she had enough guilt to work through, and he refused to add anymore. He could handle this.

She grasped his hand tightly and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Do you want to talk about it? I might not know what you're talking about, but it can sometimes help to have someone listen."

Robert couldn't help but smile at her. He hadn't had that as an option in a long time, and he hadn't thought she would want to listen. "I'll figure it out," he said, lifting her hand to his lips.

"You don't always have to do things alone," she said softly. "Most people can't."

"I'm not most people," he reminded her, rubbing his thumb across her fingers.

"No, you're not," she agreed, a half smile on her face.

Robert looked over at their meals, barely touched yet. "Come on, I have an idea." Though there was confusion and a thread of doubt on her face, she followed his lead. Turning on the stereo for some soft music to dance to, he swept her up in her arms. "I think better with you near me," he murmured, holding her close.

"So I _can_ help you," she pointed out.

He chuckled softly and started talking. "I run a business. It's an international energy corporation, especially now that I've sold off a lot of subsidiaries that didn't deal with that."

"Sounds complicated," Ariadne replied, looking up attentively.

"It can be. But it was my father's company first," he said, swinging her out for a turn. Ariadne stumbled a bit, not sure how to do it, and they laughed a little when she came crashing back into his arms. "I'm making it my own now. But because of that, I'm not sure the Board of Directors trusts me. And apparently now that I'm working from home..."

"They trust you less," she guessed. "They think you're running away from your responsibilities, or that you're acting out of grief for your father."

"I just want you safe," he said, turning those blue eyes toward her. "I can't explain this to them, that your life means more to me than billions of dollars. Their priorities are skewed."

"Oh, Robert," she murmured softly. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For things being as difficult as they are."

He tried spinning her again, and this time she didn't trip or stumble back into him. They swayed comfortably together, and he kissed her forehead. "I don't regret a thing that led me to you."

There was a troubled cast to her eyes, the same kind of look she used to have. "What if I'm not really worth this kind of attention?" she asked quietly, lips trembling slightly.

"I think you are. Isn't that what matters?"

"I want to believe that," she murmured, looking at him. Her expression was lost and vulnerable, and Robert couldn't help but wonder who had hurt her in the past. Why else couldn't she trust in what they had? Why couldn't she trust in this? He was doing everything in his power to protect her and keep her safe, everything to prove that he was wouldn't abandon her.

"Then believe," he said, standing still. He simply held her. "Believe it the way I do. If we want this badly enough, we can make this work."

"You're a good man, Robert," Ariadne whispered, reaching up to cup his face in one hand. He kissed her palm reverently. Her lips trembled slightly. "I want to believe it so much, but I don't know if I can."

"Then I'll believe it for the both of us," he said softly, and swept her up in a kiss. There was no hesitation at all in her, and his heart sang in his chest.

He was meant to do this. This was where he belonged. Of that, he was absolutely certain.

***

Uncle Peter didn't like his continued absence from Fischer Morrow, though Robert couldn't find it in himself to care very much. Browning didn't believe that he was fine, though he could see for himself via the video stream that he was physically all right. The company wasn't his sole focus, and Browning couldn't seem to accept that.

So when he showed up at the house unannounced a week later, it wasn't a complete surprise. Robert frowned at him, but he refused to go away. "What are you doing here, Uncle Peter?" he asked with a sigh.

Browning took in Robert's tousled hair, jeans and polo shirt. "I wanted to see you, Robert. In person, not over a camera." He paused when Robert didn't move away from the door. "Are you going to let me in?"

Sighing, Robert stepped aside. "I'm fine, you know that."

"You're not fine, Robert," Browning replied as he entered the house. "You're a completely different man, and I'm not sure this is what you really wanted to become."

Robert suppressed the urge to snarl at Browning. He didn't quite slam the door, but it was close, and Browning looked at him with a startled expression. "What are you talking about?" he managed to say without growling the words.

"You're not yourself, Robert," Browning told him, concern in his expression. "Little things just don't make sense, and it doesn't add up." He followed Robert into the den, expression unchanged. "I started digging into things, trying to find out what was going on. You made it difficult, Robert, but I had to know what was happening to you."

Irritated, Robert could only stare at him. "Fine. Out with it. Clearly you want to say something to me, and you just keep dancing around the subject."

"Your mind was tampered with shortly before your father's funeral. I just found out a little while ago for certain that a team of people had entered your mind."

Unbidden, Ariadne's words echoed back at him. This had to be what she felt like, afraid that the lie that started all this would be discovered. Maybe now she was starting to believe that he knew the truth and it hadn’t changed anything between them. But if others found out it would be a completely different story.

"Why would you say this, Uncle Peter?" Robert asked stiffly.

"You researched an extractor named Dominic Cobb," Browning said slowly. "I tracked him down and talked to him. I had his phone line tapped and I have the conversations on record. A word from you and he will go to prison for the rest of his life for what he did to you. All of his compatriots will be found, and they'll go to prison, too. It doesn't matter why he did it, but he _hurt_ you."

"You had no right to go through my things, no right to go tracking that man down and harassing him."

"He's an extractor. He _admitted_ to being hired to make you sell off your company, to break things apart. He _implanted_ ideas into your mind."

"How do I know you're even telling me the truth?" Robert spat bitterly. "You want the company, don't you? It's your life."

Browning blanched at the words, and Robert knew that he had gone too far. He shouldn't have said them; they weren't even true. He had just wanted to wound him, and Robert could see instantly that it had carved him apart. "You're like a son to me, Robert," Browning said, pain lacing his voice. Robert had to turn away from him, and Browning reached out to grasp his arm. "You want proof, Robert? I have the tapes. I have the files. I had investigators look into it. I only want what's best for you, Robert."

Robert stared at his godfather, but he couldn't quite follow what was going on. "Proof? Of what?" His eyes bored into Browning's. "I'm the one that wanted to make the company over into my own image. I'm the one that wanted to make changes. That was _me,_ Uncle Peter. It wasn't anyone else's doing but my own."

"No, it wasn't!" Browning shouted. "Robert, they fucked with your mind! Why don't you see that?"

Shaking off Browning's arm, Robert shook his head. "My mind is my own, Uncle Peter. You have to respect that. You of all people should know that. I've been militarized! I would've torn them to pieces before they could do something like that."

"Cobb confessed!" Browning replied. "He went into your subconscious and he _changed_ things. He changed you!"

Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and paced. "Did you force a confession out of him? Did you threaten him? Is that it?"

"Why don't you want to see it? He took a team to get into your mind. He used the flight from Sydney to LA to do it. So everyone there was involved somehow. And that girl whose picture you had... He knew her. She'd been missing for three months by the time I spoke with Cobb about all of this."

Fear and shock warred within Robert's chest. _Ariadne. No._ No. _You're not taking her away from me._

Browning was shaking his head at Robert's expression. "Cobb thinks you've killed her. That you figured out the two of them were in your head, and you've made a move to get back at them by killing her. Did you? Robert, I need to know if you have. She vanished from Paris three months ago, and I can only help hide it if you let me know what you've done."

"She's not dead," Robert blurted. "She's not going anywhere, Uncle Peter. You're not taking her away from me, and neither will Cobb."

It made sense now, the vague stirrings of unease when he had seen the pictures of Dom and Mal Cobb. The dark woman looked like Mal, but it wasn't her. The dark woman was too volatile, too sinister and dangerous. She was nothing like the sweetly smiling woman in the photos he had found of her. Ariadne was right, and the dark woman wasn't real. Mal Cobb was a dead woman, and she was incapable of harming anyone anymore. Dom Cobb, however, was very much alive, and had been the origin of the dark woman.

Mal had never been the threat that Robert had thought she was. The real threat was right here, right now. And he had to protect Ariadne or he'd lose everything.

"What are you talking about, Robert?" Browning asked warily. "How do you know she's not dead, then?" he asked, looking at him with growing unease.

Robert wanted to slap that expression off of his face. "She belongs with me."

Now the shock was on Browning's face, and he couldn't help but shake his head. "Jesus, Robert. What in God's name have they done to you?"

There was a movement at the door, and a small squeak of surprise. Both men turned to see Ariadne in the doorway, her hair tied back and clothing loose on her frame. Robert belatedly remembered it was her night to cook dinner, and she must have come looking for him to let him know that it was ready.

"That's her. That's the girl that went into your mind. That's the one that was on the plane with you, the one that warped how you think," Browning said, pointing at Ariadne with a stabbing motion. "Why is she here, Robert?" he demanded, anger in his voice. When he didn't answer right away, Browning looked over at him incredulously. "Why the fuck is she here, Robert? What are you doing?"

Ariadne looked at both men, her lips parted and her eyes wide with surprise. She didn't deny Browning's words, and her eyes finally fell to Robert.

Browning was striding forward when Ariadne couldn't speak. "You. You were part of this," he spat, pointing at her and snarling. "You fucked with his mind and changed everything about him! Admit it, you did this to him!"

She was leaning back a little, her feet poised as if to run. "It was only supposed to be an idea to be his own man," she whispered, her eyes large. Browning was livid with rage, looking ready to reach out and shake her. "It wasn't stealing anything, wasn't hurting him..."

"The hell it hasn't! You've changed everything he is!" Browning cried angrily, reaching out to grab her.

Robert didn't even think. He pulled Browning back and away from Ariadne, spinning him around and punching him across the jaw.

Browning fell, unsteadied by the spin and the punch. He looked up at Robert in shock. Ariadne was frozen, hesitant, not sure what she should do. "Robert?" Browning asked, not recognizing the seething rage on Robert's face.

"Don't touch her. You hurt her and I'll kill you."

Everyone in the room heard the conviction in his voice.

***  
***


	9. Choosing Sides

"I should go," Ariadne said, hand on the doorframe. "I shouldn't be here."

"Stay," Robert said, looking up at her. His blue eyes were large, the same caring gaze he always had for her. "I need you to stay."

"Robert, you shouldn't argue with your godfather," she said in a quiet tone. "Whatever else that has happened, whatever you believe, he will always be your godfather. He cares about you."

Browning was pushing himself to his feet as Robert stepped forward to draw Ariadne further into the room. "And I care about _you,"_ he murmured softly. "Stay."

Her hand squeezed his tightly, and she stayed by his side. Robert could see that she would have rather run, but she was putting it aside for his sake. She was strong and brave and beautiful and perfect, and he knew he would never let go willingly.

"You won't listen even when she admits it. If you won't take proof from me, what about from the man himself?" Browning asked, eyes glittering with anger and desperation.

"What are you talking about?" Robert asked, subtly shifting position so that he was standing between Ariadne and Browning. He didn't think the other two even noticed.

Browning took out his cell phone and started dialing. He pressed the speaker phone button, and the ringing was loud in the still room. "Why don't we talk to the extractor that did it?"

"You're calling Cobb?" Ariadne asked, looking at Browning in shock.

"Hello?" Cobb asked once he picked up the phone.

"Hello, Mr. Cobb," Browning said smoothly, eyes fixed on Robert's face. "It's Peter Browning. We spoke a week or two ago."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Mr. Browning. I didn't think we had anything left to say to each other. I already told you everything."

"You need to say it again," Browning said, voice laced with steel.

"What is this going to prove?" Robert asked, his own voice devoid of emotion.

"Who's there?" Cobb asked suspiciously. "What's going on?"

"This is Robert Fischer," Robert said, making sure his voice could carry to the phone in Browning's outstretched hand. "Peter seems to think you should be telling me a few things."

"I spoke with him," Cobb said carefully. There was a crashing sound in the background and a high pitched giggle. He lowered his voice a notch. "What do you want?"

"Tell me what you told him," Robert said, staring at his godfather. He didn't trust Cobb. If Peter couldn’t be persuaded to let this go then Dom Cobb would be another loose end that he’d have to take care of so he and Ariadne could be safe.

"What's going on over there?" Cobb asked instead.

"Tell me everything you told him," Robert repeated. "We know who you are, Mr. Cobb. And I've done considerable research into the mysterious death of Mallorie Cobb." He couldn’t know what actions to take until he had all the information in hand.

The implied threat was there though, and Ariadne moved her hand to his arm. Robert thought it was a cautioning move, advising him to be calm and slow it down. There was no need to threaten him yet, no need to show his hand this soon.

Cobb bristled. "Does it matter? What's done is done."

 _"Tell me what you told him,"_ Robert said, voice sharp like a whip crack in the silence. "You have two children. You're home, aren't you? You're near your children right now, Mr. Cobb. I want to know everything you said. Tell me everything."

"It was just a job," Cobb said finally. "There was nothing personal about it. It was my way back to my children."

"The murder charges, you mean," Robert said stiffly, feeling Ariadne grasp his arm tighter. He could feel the tension in her; she knew what was going on, all the things that Cobb couldn't say. He didn't want Cobb to know that Ariadne was under his protection.

"I had to give you an idea. You were supposed to be your own man, dissolve the company. That was it. That's all that was asked of me."

"How did you do it?" Browning asked when Robert made no move to speak.

"Does that even matter?" Cobb snapped. "It's done. It's over. You can't change it."

"You almost made it sound like you could," Browning accused, watching Robert's stony expression. "That if you could put in thoughts, you could take them out again."

"What did you think would happen?" Robert interrupted suddenly. "You went into my mind, and you wanted to put in an idea. What did you think it would do?"

"You were supposed to wake up and think it was all a dream, remembering nothing," Cobb said, voice hard and angry. "You were supposed to break up the company and stop being a worldwide monopoly. There should have been no trace left behind to show we were ever there."

"Obviously," Robert replied sarcastically. "You wanted to go home to your children. You wanted to be clear of murder charges. You didn't think about what would ultimately happen to me, did you?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be.

"Nothing happened!" Cobb snapped. "Nobody was hurt." Ariadne made a soft despairing noise and pressed her face against Robert's arm. "What was that?"

"The girl from the plane," Browning intoned as Robert said "It's doesn't matter!" sharply.

"Ariadne?" Cobb asked, concern in his voice. "Are you there? Are you all right?"

"I'm here," Ariadne said in a quiet but firm tone. "I'm fine." Robert looked at her and could see the truth of it in her eyes. Whatever her concern was regarding her relationship with Robert, it didn't shake her to the core anymore.

"My God... Ariadne! We thought you were dead! We thought he killed you!"

There was a flash of pain in her eyes, and Robert closed his hand over hers. He hadn't meant to cause her or her friends pain with her disappearance.

"I'm not dead, Cobb," she said quietly. "I'm fine."

"What happened to you?" Cobb asked, concern and suspicion building in his voice. "Why are you there with _them?"_

Robert heard the accusation that Cobb didn't quite voice: _Did you sell me out?_

"The fact of the matter is," Robert interjected smoothly, "Ariadne is very much alive, no harm has come to her person. You committed a crime, Mr. Cobb, and it's a rather serious one."

"There's only this so-called evidence that Browning claims he has," Cobb replied. His tone was even and smooth, as if he was discussing a grocery list. "He could very well have planted it. He could be undermining you in your company. You have nothing concrete."

"You left things behind, Mr. Cobb," Robert replied, voice hard as steel. Some small part of him gloried in the sharp intake of breath on the other end of the phone line. "You left clues behind, and _I know what you did._ You have two very lovely children, Mr. Cobb. It would be a shame for you to go to prison for mind crime. The legal system isn't very lenient for that kind of thing. Rather akin to assault and murder, I think the Supreme Court called it."

"What do you want?" Cobb asked sharply. There was a short pause. "You have Ariadne. She was missing for a long time. What did she tell you?"

"You're rather missing the point," Robert said smoothly, taking in Ariadne's shocked expression. She was beyond speech by now, and he knew she could never sell out anyone she had worked with or trusted. That Cobb would accuse her of such a thing was too much for her to handle at the moment.

"And that would be?" Cobb asked, suspicion lacing his tone. Browning was watching Robert carefully, waiting to see where he was taking this.

"You're working as an architect now," Robert said. "Very legitimate firm, a widower and father of two young children. It all looks on the up and up, doesn't it? I'm sure no one at the firm knows what kind of work you used to do before." He paused for effect. "I wonder how they would react if they knew about it. If they knew just how far you were willing to go to get what you want."

"Why would they believe you?" Cobb replied, a veneer of calm over his words. "It's not as if there's any proof to what you say."

"Oh, but I do have proof. And it wouldn't be difficult to follow your trail backward. Like I said, you left things behind, Mr. Cobb. You had to get to know me as you went into my mind, and that left you wide open as well." Cobb made a sharp intake of breath, and Robert continued. "I'm sure it would be very difficult for those children of yours to grow up without a father. I want you to stay away from me, Mr. Cobb. Stay away from me, my company, Ariadne..."

"She's not important. I don't need Ariadne anymore," Cobb interjected.

Ariadne blinked in surprise and looked at Robert, not able to say a word. The disbelief on her face was obvious, and even Browning looked uncomfortable by it.

"You don't," Robert said in neutral tones.

"She served her purpose," Cobb said, voice firm.

"You were so concerned for her a moment ago. You were worried that she was dead, that I'd killed her," Robert said, needing to tamp down on his anger. "What kind of man did you think you were dealing with, that I could so casually murder someone I didn't know?"

"It doesn't matter now. All that matters is that you stay away from me and my children." Cobb sounded insistent, but Robert knew that it was masking his desperation. He was giving up on Ariadne to keep his children safe.

"Well, then. I'm sure we have an understanding," Robert said in chilly tones. "I hear even a whisper about you approaching me, and all of this information I have on you becomes public knowledge. You won't be able to keep the authorities away from this one. Then your children may as well be orphans."

"There's no need for any of that," Cobb gasped. There was the faint sound of giggles in the background, as well as music from a television.

"That's up to you, isn't it?" Robert asked, tone brooking no argument.

"I'm out of it," Cobb said, and there was almost an air of resignation in his tone. "I'm not going back. There's no need to threaten me."

"Isn't there?" Robert asked coldly. "You justified what you did. You rationalized it, thinking my life wasn't worth yours. Isn't that so?"

"It wasn't about that," he protested. "It was never about that. I didn't have options..."

"Bullshit. There are always options. There are always choices. Make no mistake, the choices you make _do_ impact the others around you. Now it's all up to you, Mr. Cobb," Robert said, taking hold of Browning's phone. "Make the right choice." He hung up, cutting off whatever protest Cobb was about to make, then handed the phone back to Browning. "We'll need to keep an eye on him, of course."

Ariadne had stayed very still after the first pained shock of hearing Cobb leaving her to fend for herself. She had given everything to make the inception job work. True, there were elements of dread fascination and excessive curiosity on her end, but he had always rather glorified what they were doing. He had put it forth in lofty tones, making it seem like less of a serious situation than it obviously was.

Robert reached out to touch her arm. "Are you all right, Ariadne?"

"He... I thought being on a team meant something," she said in a small voice.

"Why are you comforting _her?"_ Browning snapped, looking at Robert incredulously. "She went into your mind and did things to it. Were you even listening? He admitted that he was trying to put ideas into your head, to change who you are. You're _different,_ Robert. This isn't who you are, isn't who you're meant to be."

"Let it go, Uncle Peter," Robert said, tilting his head toward his godfather slightly. He was still facing Ariadne and her wide, pleading eyes.

"No, I will _not._ This is absurd. I can chalk some of it up to grief and some of it up to what that goddamn extractor did. They fucked with your mind, Robert. That's inexcusable. You were the one quoting that Supreme Court decision." He moved so that Robert couldn't help but look at him. "We'll get a team together. We'll find that thought, we'll root it out. We'll change you back, and you'll be who you were meant to be."

"And who's that?" Robert asked, anger rising. "Who was I supposed to be? Maurice Fischer's disappointment of a son or the businessman that the Board of Directors laughs at? What in God's name would lead you to believe that's something I want to go back to?"

"This isn't _you,_ Robert," Browning insisted. He yanked on Ariadne's arm in frustration, shaking her. "She was part of this, don't you get it? They broke your mind and this is all that's left of it. We need to fix that!"

"Get off of me!" Ariadne cried, panicking and trying to peel his fingers off of her arm. What little she had learned in self defense classes was drowned out by the rage in his eyes. She was suddenly very afraid that he was going to hurt her and then it all happened so fast.

There was shouting, something that sounded like "There's nothing to fix!" and "Let go of her!" from Robert and "This is all her fault!" from Browning. It was hard to tell over the rush of blood in her ears, and Browning hit her across the face before Robert could get him away from her. He hit hard, and her teeth closed over her tongue sharp enough to draw blood. She staggered a step from the force of the blow, and his large hands closed over her throat and began to squeeze. Her world narrowed to the burn of her chest, the sight of Browning's rage and Robert's fear. Ariadne tried digging her fingernails into his hands to pry them from her throat, but it wasn't working. He ignored that pain to squeeze even tighter, until she was seeing stars.

Robert couldn't believe that Browning was doing this. He had always been the kind of man Robert had wanted to be, even with those vague mistrustful feelings he had. Seeing him lose control like this wasn't helping him.

"I'll fix this myself, if I have to!" Browning snarled, staring at Ariadne.

Pulling him off of Ariadne wasn't working, no matter how much Robert put his weight behind the move. Finally he just rushed Browning, knocking him down. They all tumbled across the floor, and his hands flew away from Ariadne's neck. There were livid bruises already flaring across her delicate throat, and she was lying so very still on the floor. Browning pushed himself up to his feet and glared at Robert. "You just don't get it, Robert. I'm trying to help you. This isn't the way it's supposed to be."

He dropped to his knees beside Ariadne, but she wasn't stirring. He shook her, and she flopped loosely against the floor. A yawning emptiness gaped wide inside his chest. It was worse than when he was at his father's deathbed, hearing what a disappointment he was. He had tried so hard and failed.

"She's not real. Everything you knew about her was a lie," Browning continued, unrepentant. "We can get rid of the body. It's not like anyone but Cobb knew she was ever here. We can forget this ever happened and get to work fixing your mind."

 _"There's nothing wrong with me!"_ Robert shouted, jumping to his feet and swinging at Browning. His fist connected with Browning's jaw, making him stumble back against the fireplace, hitting the side of his head against the polished marble. Browning propped himself up against the fireplace, his feet not quite steady beneath him.

"Have to... fix things..." Browning insisted, swaying slightly.

Robert stumbled forward, knocking over the poker set. He grasped it in hand as Browning tilted forward and pitched into his arms. "There's nothing to fix in me. Just her. You've killed her, you've killed the one thing that gave me meaning."

"The company..."

He wasn't even aware of swinging the poker at Browning's head or the incoherent screams he was making. Robert was only aware of the horrid despair inside of him, at the thought of living his entire life without meaning, that having Ariadne in his life was impossible now.

Robert lifted his eyes toward Ariadne in a daze only to see her cough and wheeze. The poker slipped from nerveless fingers as he realized she was alive, had merely been unconscious.

"Ariadne?"

She rolled to her side and strained her head up to look at him. Her eyes widened, and Robert had to look down at himself. There was blood spattered on his chest and hands, on the poker that had fallen beside Browning. He wasn't moving or breathing, and there was a dent in the side of his head, as well as a spreading bloodstain.

There was no mistaking it. Robert had killed him.

Robert looked up in horror at Ariadne. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This wasn't what he had planned.

She rolled to her knees with a little difficulty and grasped her throat. "Robert?" she rasped. "Are you okay? What...?"

He was dimly aware of the blood on his clothes. It must have looked terrible, as if the two of them had wounded each other. Robert looked down at Browning, then back at Ariadne. "I couldn't let him kill you. I thought he did kill you. I thought..."

She scrambled forward and took in the devastation for herself. "Oh, Robert. Oh, no..."

"I had no other choice." Browning had threatened Ariadne. There had never been any question in his mind what would have to happen then.

Ariadne grasped his arm, feeling him as a solid presence to keep her upright when the room wouldn't stop spinning. "Robert. You can't go to prison because of me."

"I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Ariadne." He touched her face gently, glad that she was still alive.

"I love you, Robert," she said softly. "I can't lose you."

"What do you suggest?"

"I need to call someone," she said slowly. "And I hope he can help us."

Ariadne dialed a number from memory on Robert's phone. "Who is this?" Arthur asked suspiciously. "How did you get this number?"

"Arthur," Ariadne said. She heard his sharp, pained intake of breath. "I need your help."

***  
***


	10. Tying Up Loose Ends

Arthur arrived the following afternoon. He was dressed in khakis over boots, a button down shirt and a battered raincoat. He was fairly nondescript looking, which was rather the point. His eyes raked over Ariadne's form as soon as he saw her at the gate to Robert's estate. "You went missing," he said.

To anyone else, he might have sounded cold and bland. Ariadne could hear the worry there, and she reached out to touch his arm. "It's complicated, Arthur."

"You'll need to tell me everything," he replied. His voice was laced with concern, and he seemed to be trying to memorize her face, trying to be sure she was all right. "I won't be able to help unless I know what we're all dealing with."

She smiled at him in relief. "Thank you."

The entire story tumbled out on the way up to the house. Ariadne left out the kisses and the sex, as well as any of her own slowly growing affection for Robert. His tight jaw and stiff steps seemed to weigh on her heavily as disapproval. It was irrational, but she felt as if he somehow knew what she wasn't telling him. Why else would she need his help in getting rid of a body to keep Robert out of jail? She paused at the threshold of the house and looked at Arthur. "I won't blame you if you never want to speak to me again after this," she said softly.

"Why the hell would you say that?" he asked, jaw dropping. "Ariadne, I was worried sick about you! I looked everywhere, called every contact, did everything I could to find you."

"Cobb threw me aside to save himself." she said, blinking furiously to keep from crying.

"He what?" Arthur asked dumbly, staring at her.

"Last night... This all started because Browning showed up. He called Cobb, they started making threats, and Cobb said that they could keep me. That he didn't need me anymore. That he was out of it, and he didn't care as long as he and the kids were safe. I've known you as long as I've known him. You don't owe me anything..."

Arthur grasped her hand tightly, pain in his eyes. She regretted her words instantly, and for the thousandth time wondered what things could have been between them. She looked down at their linked hands, then up at his open expression. "Ariadne..."

Robert was in the doorway, watching them closely. "Is everything okay?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm going to kill Cobb when I'm done here," Arthur said sharply, dropping her hand abruptly. He was clearly upset by this turn of events, and Ariadne was left staring at him as he turned on his heel to enter the house. Robert led the way to the den, where Browning's body was still lying. He had fallen onto a throw rug, and Robert didn't flinch when Arthur told him that everything would have to go.

"Ariadne trusts you," Robert said in even tones. "She says you're a good friend of hers."

"Yes, I am." Arthur looked at Robert with an unflinching gaze. "There's something on your mind, then. Might as well say whatever it is."

"You were there, too, weren't you? You were part of the team that went into my mind."

Arthur nodded slowly. "It's how we met."

Robert simply watched Arthur's impassive expression for a moment. "That's it?"

"I'm here to help you because Ariadne asked me to," Arthur said. There was no particular inflection in his voice, and his gaze was clear. "If it comes down to it, we know enough about each other now to put the other in prison. Neither of us would care for it, so we can at least agree to respect each other, right?"

"You're very reasonable," Robert murmured as Ariadne looked between them anxiously. "I didn't expect that, to be honest." He let out a slow breath. "I wasn't really sure what to expect. Maybe someone that enjoyed ripping lives apart."

"No," Arthur said slowly, shaking his head. "If anything, dream sharing was supposed to stop that from happening." He looked down at Browning's body on the floor. "It doesn't always work out that way, but this wasn't corporate espionage."

"He was going to hurt her. I couldn't allow that," Robert said. There was a core of steel in his tone, a subtle challenge to Arthur.

"I did start looking into things while waiting for my flight," Arthur said as he knelt beside the body. "No e-mail messages, texts or phone calls were made prior to his showing up here. He didn't contact anyone with his concerns. Assuming that the Outlook calendar is still Browning's primary schedule keeper, no one will know he's missing for another two days." He looked up at Robert's startled expression. "I know details, Mr. Fischer. That's my role in things. I look through data and see patterns. I find ways around security, and I protect the people I work with."

"Would you ever consider doing anything else?" Robert asked.

Arthur's smile was more of a smirk, and Ariadne was heartened to see it. "Depends on what the offer is."

There wasn't much more said as Arthur directed Robert and Ariadne in disposing of Browning's remains. He was as efficient as ever, eyes sharp and observant. Ariadne found it disconcerting that Arthur was so well versed in how to dispose of a body. It was one thing to make a paper trail that led nowhere or create false identification. It was quite another to see him so calm and collected while taking apart what was once a human being. Then again, she hadn't really known what was involved in the darker aspects of the dream share world. He had deliberately kept her sheltered from the worst of it while she was in school. He hadn't wanted her in danger, hadn't wanted her so involved that she couldn't get out of it if she didn't want to stay in that world.

His eyes were soft as they took her in. When Robert stepped out of the room for a bit, she met that gaze. "Arthur, I'm sorry about all this," she said softly.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," he responded in similar tones. "It's not your fault. You didn't ask for his mind to fixate on you. You didn't ask for this to happen." He paused and looked at her with a level gaze. She couldn't read his expression, couldn't tell if his eyes were troubled. They were assessing her closely. "Is this what you want? Are you happy, Ariadne?"

It wasn't the question she had been expecting. "Yes," she said, reaching out to touch his arm. She needed the reassurance as much as he did. "I love him, Arthur. And he loves me. He doesn't care how it started. He doesn't care that we went into his mind to put in an idea." Ariadne watched as he looked down at the piecemeal body between them. "It works, Arthur."

"Then I'm happy for you," he said quietly, looking up at her. "You're my friend, Ariadne," he continued in firm tones. Ariadne wondered if he was feeling the same vague pangs of regret she felt. If he did, they were being hidden well. "I just want you safe and happy."

"I am," Ariadne said, meeting his gaze. She meant it, and he could see that in her eyes.

Robert was standing in the doorway, a box of garbage bags in one hand and another kitchen knife in the other. His expression was impassive, his eyes assessing if Arthur was a threat to his relationship with Ariadne. She now knew the lengths he would go to in order to keep her safe, and it chilled her to think that he might see Arthur as another threat.

"You don't have to worry about her," Robert said coolly to Arthur.

"I'd be a very poor friend if I didn't," he replied evenly.

Robert weighed the words and nodded firmly. Whatever the byplay was, Robert seemed to accept them at face value. His movements were less strained, and his expression softened just a fraction. Anyone else might not have noticed, but Ariadne knew him by now. He didn't want to lose her, even to a friend.

Unbidden, Ariadne wondered how he would react to children they would have. That would be a different case, and they hadn't ever talked about it.

She was calmly thinking of a future with Robert, of multiple children running around this home and clambering around in the garden. She couldn't help but smile softly at Robert when he caught her eye, and he returned that smile. Arthur caught it, and Ariadne was almost sorry that he did, though the tense set to his shoulders eased a bit. He really had been worried about her, and concerned that this relationship was forced on her. It was sobering to think of that now.

While Arthur was in the yard with the garbage bags, a large bucket and lye, Robert slid an arm around Ariadne's waist. She leaned into his touch and looked up at him. "He's a good friend," he commented noncommittally.

"You're jealous," she replied, a slight amused curl to her lip.

"Maybe," he hedged.

"There's nothing between us. There never was, never will be." She turned slightly and pressed her lips to his bicep. "He's very work oriented. That's his main priority, and that won't change."

"He cares for you very much," Robert murmured.

"I'm glad he still does," Ariadne murmured. "After hearing Cobb... I thought he was a friend, too, you know. I didn't think he'd casually toss me aside like that."

"You're very loyal to the ones you care about," Robert said softly, fingers stroking her side comfortingly. "I'm sorry it didn't work out in that case. At least now you know, before you really had to rely on him for anything."

"Yeah," she replied with a sigh. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of him, feeling it calm her. She was settled in his embrace, in this life. She had chosen this without thinking about it, but it felt right. Everything in her felt complete now.

"Let's see if Arthur needs any help. It's not fair to have him clean up my mess, after all."

There was a sickening bubbling and smoking coming from the tub in front of Arthur. He had his back to the house, and he had his phone in hand. "...fuck were you thinking?" he was snarling. "It was _your_ idea to get someone brand new for that job. There were other architects. You didn't have to find someone inexperienced."

It was obviously Cobb that he was talking to, and he was clearly not happy about it. "You don't leave them behind!" Arthur snapped. "Ariadne did nothing but help. She told me what happened while we were all on the first level, Dom. She kept your secrets and tried to help you contain it so you could go home. It was her idea to even go into limbo after Mal shot Fischer. It's because of her that it even worked. Is that how you pay her back?"

Ariadne wondered what excuse he was giving Arthur; his stance grew even more rigid in response to the words. "That's fucking _bullshit,_ even for you," he said, voice tight. "I've put up with worse from you without a word of complaint." He paused, listening to whatever Cobb said in response. "Does that mean if I was the one caught, you would have done nothing to help me?"

She wandered forward, into Arthur's line of vision. She had never seen him so angry before, and she reached out to touch his arm gently. He started slightly, and she could see the disbelief in his eyes. Whatever Cobb was saying, it wasn't helping. "Arthur..."

"We're done," Arthur said abruptly. "We've worked together for _years,_ and never once did I ever think you would do this." Cobb must have protested, but Arthur cut him off. "For Mal's sake, I stood by you when you fell apart. I never _once_ complained about her projection torturing me and fucking up jobs left and right. I trusted you to get your shit together and work it out, and I trusted you to do right by the teams we put together. I explained everything away as grief, or assholes being able to take care of themselves." Arthur made a snarling noise over whatever Cobb said in reply to that. "That has nothing to do with this, and fuck you very much for your concern."

There was unfettered rage in Arthur's eyes at the moment, and Ariadne looked at Robert with worry. "Don't call me anymore, Dom. I'm not dealing with this bullshit. I'm going to make it very clear that this is how you treat the teams you work with. Do you honestly think that anyone else in the business would be willing to put up with that?" Cobb must have said something, but Arthur cut him off. "Don't call me. Don't contact me. You won't like what I have to say, and I'm liable to leave you twisting in the wind at this point."

Arthur let out a growl of frustration when he pocketed his phone, then picked up the bottle of lye and liberally poured it into the bucket. Ariadne tried not to wince at the smell of it or the jerky motions Arthur was making. "Let us help, Arthur."

He looked from her upturned face to Robert's blank one. "Yeah," he said after a moment, nodding as he came to a decision. "Yeah, okay."

Nothing else was said as they disposed of the rest of Browning's body.

***

It was surreal to be having a barbecue in the backyard, not that far from where all the evidence had been dissolved down to nothing. Arthur had his laptop open on the table, laying a trail of supposed visits that Ariadne and Robert made to each other while she was missing. Ariadne was in charge of dinner, which was an understated and quiet affair. Robert was sitting beside Arthur, observing him closely. Arthur didn't look discomfited at all.

It was surreal, but somehow it felt right, too. They were the two most important men in her life, and at least they were capable of getting along. She didn't want to choose between them, but it wouldn't really be a contest.

Robert looked up at her, and she smiled at him. He was the one she would always choose.

"Are you all right with people thinking you just ran off because you were head over heels in love?" Arthur asked, shutting down his laptop. There were other loose ends he was going to tie off for them, and Ariadne didn't even know how to begin thanking him for it.

"It's a variation of the truth," she replied.

"There are other things to take care of, of course," Robert added after a moment. He looked over at Arthur's lofted eyebrow. "Can you train Ariadne? So that her mind is militarized, too? Off of any records, that is."

Arthur looked over at Ariadne and nodded thoughtfully. "You were in the middle of karate classes, too. Those should be continued."

Ariadne came to sit near them at the table. "I still want to design things," she said, looking at them both. The majority of her gaze was on Robert. "Not in the field, really. But I love to build. I need to do that. Whether it's for dreams or real life, I _need_ to do that."

Robert held her gaze for a moment, considering. She knew there had to be panic there, that he didn't want to risk losing her. At the same time, it wasn't a question. This time together had been more than enough of a break for her, and she needed to do something. She needed to create, and she was feeling that kind of restlessness that told her she needed to be working on a job of some kind. She had been too inactive for too long.

"Is it possible to keep her safe?" Robert asked Arthur, his gaze never leaving Ariadne's face. She could hear the underlying fear in his voice, but she wasn't sure Arthur could.

"As safe as I can make it," Arthur told him gravely. "I can't promise more than that. It would be a lie. But I'm sure we can work something out."

Robert seemed to weigh that for a moment, and Ariadne could see the respect in his eyes at the fact that Arthur didn't lie to him. "I don't like the sound of that," he said finally.

"Would you prefer it if I lied?" Arthur asked archly. Robert nearly flushed and looked away, but Ariadne reached out and grasped his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. "It's impossible to give any guarantees in life. You can't know what's going to happen in the future. All you can do is prepare for it as best as you can."

Ariadne watched Robert weigh the words carefully, and she looked at Arthur gratefully. It would be awkward and complicated for a while, she knew. But when Robert finally nodded slowly, she could only grin at them both.

"I can try not to interfere," Robert promised Ariadne. "I'll worry."

"I know you will," Ariadne replied. She brought his hand up to her mouth for a kiss across his knuckles, and Arthur looked away. "But I'll be careful."

Afterward, while Robert was washing up the dishes, Arthur looked at her with concerned eyes. "If he ever hurts you..." he began in a warning tone.

"He won't," she told him gently. "But thank you, all the same."

"He doesn't want to," Arthur corrected softly. "But he might anyway. People are like that. Things happen that they don't always intend."

Ariadne thought of her own involvement in dream share, of Cobb being desperate enough to use everyone around him for his own benefit. She thought of Arthur, his loyalty and his friendship, and how the potential for more between them would never be realized now.

No, things don't always work out the way you intend them to.

She rose to her tip toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek gently. "I understand, Arthur," she said gently. "Thank you. This is what I want. Robert makes me happy. This is where I need to be, and I want to be here. It's my own decision, no one else's."

"All right." He nodded at her and then stepped back a half step. It was a respectful distance, one that told her he would never cross that boundary between them. "There are other things I'll have to do in person, but it'll get done."

Robert stepped back out onto the deck, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "You're welcome here anytime," he told Arthur, meaning every syllable.

"Thank you," Arthur replied, inclining his head slightly. He seemed to mean it, too.

When he left the following morning, Ariadne knew without having to check that her accounts in Paris and her apartment would be taken care of. There was a trail of plane tickets in various computer networks to point to now, and there would be a trail for Browning to vanish from. Arthur respected her choices and would help her stay safe. It was all she could ask for.

Robert was sprawled across the bed beside her, face unlined and soft in sleep. She stroked his cheek softly, knowing he dreamed of her. She dreamed of him, too; as impossible as it seemed, this seemed to work.

Ariadne kissed Robert's slack lips, then settled back down to bed beside him. There was time enough to figure out the details. They both had everything they wanted.

The End


End file.
